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Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 01

By: Wifeowner



Professor Ballard took another sip of Chardonnay as she continued to survey the crowd. These faculty receptions were so predictable. The usual suspects were all present and accounted for. She nodded at her fellow faculty members politely. There was the stodgy department chair. God, was he actually wearing a tweed jacket? What a dolt.

Over there was the cluster of teaching assistants and new instructors, always anxious to impress. All smiles and handshakes.

These people were of no interest to her.

She turned her eye back to the group of students. Back to Kendra. She had been watching the girl all evening.

Kendra Wilson was a 20 year-old junior who sat in the front row of her comparative literature class. She was a gorgeous, blue-eyed blond from Nebraska. Quite the corn-fed beauty, Kendra. Ballard continued to drink her in with her eyes. 

Professor Ballard was 44 years old. She was a tenured professor of English. She was tall and statuesque and extremely proud of the fact that she had virtually no body fat. She worked out constantly to maintain her figure. She had large, full breasts which decidedly did not sag. Her legs were lean and muscular and terminated in a well-shaped ass.

In short, she was a MILF, and quite a sexy one at that.

She had been divorced for seven years. She had two grown children, one in graduate school and the other a sophomore at this very college.

The professor had led a quiet, normal life until her divorce.

That was when she had undergone a sexual renaissance of a sort.

That was when she had discovered the power of young pussy.

Kathleen Ballard had never had a sexual experience with another woman until she was 37 years old. It happened almost by accident. She was recently divorced and decided to get out of the house and attend a faculty reception, just like this one. She had gotten slightly tipsy and was surprised to find herself flirting with a pretty, young thing who was obviously trying to get in to her pants. It had happened before. Young co-eds often tried to seduce their professors, male and female.

But this time, instead of politely rejecting the girl's advances, Professor Ballard had simply let events run their course. After a bit of coaxing and a little more wine, she had let the girl lead her down the hall to her office. That was how she ended up kneeling between the legs of a 20 year-old student. That was when she first felt the power of young pussy.

After that, she was lost. 

She couldn't get enough young pussy. She became a connoisseur. She loved the sight, the touch, the smell, the taste, even the sound of young wet pussy. In Professor Ballard's mind, the allure of young pussy was further enhanced by its close proximity to young ass. The professor enjoyed pussy and ass in equal measure.

She had no interest in women her own age. She liked them young. Not too young, of course. She wasn't a total pervert. In fact, she made it her personal policy to only go after upperclassmen. Well, there was that one sophomore chick, but she had been wise beyond her years. Ballard shivered now, remembering how that girl had ridden her face and howled like a banshee, while smacking her cunt with her open palm.

When she wasn't working, all she could think about was young pussy. When she was working, all she could think about was young pussy.

Her career placed her in the perfect position to indulge her new obsession. She had a constantly revolving pool of talent flowing in and out her classroom. 

She kept her eye out for the vulnerable girls with passion in their hearts and a touch of deviltry on their minds. They were at college. It was only natural that some girls wanted to experiment. Professor Ballard was only too happy to oblige. She learned to detect the ripening scent of precarious availability.

But most important, she learned to recognize the vibe.

The vibe was the current of energy put out by straight girls who might be interested in a harmless lesbian fling. Nothing serious, mind you, just a little walk on the wild side. Professor Ballard was very good at recognizing the vibe and acting accordingly.

She averaged one girl per semester.

Kendra Wilson had been putting out the vibe for weeks now. She was practically asking for it. And here she was, ripe for the picking.

Ballard's reverie was interrupted by a question that seemed to come from her left elbow.

"She's cute isn't she?"

The professor looked away from the pretty blond and found herself staring in to the deep blue eyes of a striking young brunette who had sidled up alongside her at the bar. She was standing very close.

"What?" said Ballard.

"Kendra. She's cute don't you think? She's my roommate. I couldn't help noticing that you've been staring at her all night."

"Excuse me. Do I know you?" asked the startled professor.

"I'm sorry. Where are my manners. I'm Jennifer Parker. I'm a senior."

She held out her hand.

The older woman took the proffered hand.

She looked at the girl appraisingly. She had a perfect oval face with slightly almond shaped blue eyes. She had full lips and straight white teeth. She was petite, but hard-bodied with cute, perky breasts and a spectacular ass. Overall, she was quite the exotic beauty.

And she was putting out the vibe. Big time.

Professor Ballard sensed all this in the time it took to swallow a sip of wine. After all, she was an expert at sizing up new talent.

Professor Ballard coolly began to recalibrate her expectations for the evening.

Could she possibly have them both?

She gave the girl her warmest smile as she shook her hand gently.

"Nice to meet you, Jennifer, I'm..."

"I know who you are," the girl said holding her gaze. "You're professor Ballard, the dyke."

The professor almost spit out her mouthful of Chardonnay. She pulled her hand away, as if recoiling from a bite.

"Kendra tells me you've been flirting shamelessly with her for weeks. She thought it was cute. When I found out who you were, I told her to seduce you. From the looks of things, she's been doing a good job. Were you going to make your move tonight, professor?"

Professor Ballad took two large sips of wine.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," she said lamely.

The girl put her hand on the professor's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Professor. You're secret is safe with me. In fact, I was going to offer you a taste of Kendra tonight, if you're interested."

Jennifer began rubbing the professors shoulder. Her touch was electric.

"Wouldn't you like that, professor? We could use your office. I could have her spread herself across the desk for you."

The professor stared at the girl in shock for several seconds.

Then, despite her discomfiture, she began to feel a familiar tingle in her loins. The words the girl had spoken began to sink in. Across my desk? Now? Was this for real?

The girl looked over Professor Ballard's s shoulder at Kendra.

"You're a pussy hound, right? You trying to tell me you don't want a piece of that cunt right now? I might even let you have a taste of mine too, if you play your cards right."

Despite her initial shock, the professor found herself oddly captivated by this strange creature standing beside her. She was struck by her calm air of authority and completely disarmed by her directness. She was blunt, but not threatening in any way. She felt herself begin to relax.

This could be fun, she thought.

She examined the girl more closely. She had a dark streak of primitive sensuality that was hard to resist. Her eyes were alight with mischievous carnality. She was having fun. 

The girl continued to rub the professor's shoulder. The gesture was surprisingly intimate in the crowded room.

"Or maybe I'm wrong and you're just another middle-aged hausfrau who doesn't like to play with girls. It's up to you, teach."

The girl gave her shoulder a final squeeze, then twirled on her heels and walked away.

Professor Ballard stood unmoving for a full minute as she replayed the transcript of the unlikely conversation in her mind. 

Was she really being offered Kendra Wilson?

She looked over at the cluster of students. Jennifer was standing next to Kendra, whispering in her ear. The blond looked over at the professor and smiled. 

Did she just wink?

The professor refilled her wine glass and walked to the other side of the room in to the realm of the faculty. She drifted in and out of boring conversations she did not care about and did not recall. She was introduced to people she immediately forgot. 

All she could think about was Kendra Wilson's pussy.

On her desk. Tonight.

At last, inevitably, she found herself next to Jennifer again at the bar.

"Hi teach. Have you thought about my offer?"

"You've certainly gotten my attention, Jennifer. You're quite an interesting young lady." The professor realized she was a little drunk.

They looked in to each other's eyes. Jennifer was smiling.

"But I'm not sure I understand the dynamic here," said the professor. "Is Kendra your girlfriend?"

Jennifer continued to look the professor in the eyes.

"No, she's not my girlfriend. She's my slave, professor," she said evenly.

Professor Ballard took a moment to process this new information. She wasn't shocked. She herself had dabbled in a little BDSM over the years. She liked playing the slave to young pussy from time to time.

"I don't believe you," said the professor with a smile. "You're much too young to own a slave, my dear."

She touched Jennifer's shoulder. 

Her tone was playful. She was openly flirting now. The game was afoot.

There was a pause.

"Oh, I see. The professor wants a show," said Jennifer with a chuckle.

Without another word, Jennifer turned away and caught Kendra's eye across the room. She gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head.

Kendra immediately loped over to join them.

She said nothing. She kept her eyes on the floor and stood quietly with her hands at her sides. Her legs were held slightly further apart than they needed to be. She was wearing a slinky black dress that only came up to the middle of her thighs.

"Kendra, say hello to Professor Ballard."

The blond looked up.

"Hello, ma'am." She curtsied slightly.

"Hello, Kendra," said Professor Ballard.

"Kendra, tell the professor what you are, please."

"I'm Jennifer's slave, ma'am."

"How long have I owned you, dear."

"About two years, mistress."

"And do you like being my slave, Kendra?"

"Oh, yes mistress. Very much."

"You do everything I tell you to do, don't you Kendra?" asked Jennifer.

"Yes, ma'am, of course."

"Tell me Kendra, are you wearing panties tonight?" asked her mistress casually.

"No ma'am, of course not." She sounded positively shocked by the question. "I am never allowed to wear panties." 

"Show Professor Ballard, Kendra."

She was standing by the corner of the bar. It was a self-service counter. No bartender. The view of the rest of the room would be blocked by Jennifer and Professor Ballard.

Without hesitation, Kendra reached down and pulled up the front of her dress. She continued to stare at the floor.

Professor Ballard was struck by the raw eroticism of the gesture. Here was a beautiful girl standing in a crowded room voluntarily displaying her pussy to a complete stranger.

The pussy itself was spectacular. Professor Ballard could tell, even from a distance. She was an expert. It was plump and cute and clean-shaven. Her full lips were slightly engorged with arousal.

"Spread a little more, Kendra. Let us see it pout, dear," said Jennifer.

Kendra dutifully spread her legs further and tilted her pelvis slightly.

Her pussy lips did indeed appear to pout slightly.

"Who's pussy is that, Kendra?" asked her mistress.

"It's your pussy ma'am," she whispered hoarsely.

"I was thinking of letting Professor Ballard have a taste tonight. What do you think of that, Kendra."

"As you wish, ma'am. It's your pussy." 

"Are you wet, Kendra? I believe I'm detecting a whiff of arousal," said Jennifer archly.

"I'm always wet when I'm around you ma'am," she said softly.

"Show me, Kendra. Two fingers should be sufficient."

With that, the pretty blond plunged the first two fingers of her right hand in to her sex to the hilt. She sloshed them around for a few seconds, then withdrew them.

She held her hand out in front of her for inspection.

Her fingers were glistening in the dim light.

"Why don't you shake Professor Ballard's hand, Kendra," said Jennifer with a wicked smile.

Kendra reached over and took the professors hand in hers. She gave it a quick shake, then wiped some of her wetness very deliberately across the back of the professor's hand.

The professor raised the hand to her face and inhaled deeply, looking directly in to the eyes of the blond beauty. Her scent was intoxicating. She could feel her own pussy ripening.

"You can clean them now, Kendra," said her mistress.

Kendra remained standing with her legs wide apart. She brought both fingers up to her mouth and sucked each digit thoroughly. 

She was still holding up her dress with her left hand.

"You may cover yourself, Kendra."

She dropped the hem of her dress.

"Ask professor Ballard if she would like to eat your pussy, Kendra."

She looked up at Professor Ballard's face. 

"Ma'am, would you like to eat my pussy?" she asked meekly.

Professor Ballard said nothing. She was utterly transfixed. Her pussy was now throbbing.

After a moment, Jennifer spoke.

"Oh, dear, where are my manners? Don't you think you should eat Professor Ballard's pussy first, Kendra?"

Kendra looked down at the floor.

"Yes, ma'am, of course."

"Why don't you ask the professor if she would be so kind as to allow you to eat her pussy, Kendra."

Kendra turned to me and looked me in the eyes. Her face was angelic.

"Ma'am, may this slut please eat your pussy?"

I continued to stare at her without speaking.

After a moment, Jennifer spoke again.

"Hmm. I'm detecting a little hesitation here, Kendra. Maybe the professor needs a little push."

She folded her arms across her chest, then cupped her chin with her left hand. She held the pose for a few seconds as if in deep concentration. Then she snapped her fingers in front of her face.

"I've got it. How about we play a fun game to break the ice?"

Kendra and Professor Ballard looked at her expectantly.

"Here are the rules, Kendra. First, you convince Professor Ballard to take you down the hall to her office. Then you lick her pussy to three orgasms. Then you come back here and give me her panties as proof."

Kendra and I looked at each other.

"Here's the kicker, said her mistress looking at her watch. "If you don't make it happen in twenty minutes, I'll whip your cunt with the wire hanger when we get home tonight. Forty strokes."

And with that, she walked away.

Kendra remained standing before the professor. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth began to quiver. She was obviously familiar with the wire hanger treatment.

"Oh God, Professor Ballard, she means it."

"Kendra, please. Take it easy, dear."

"No. She's done this before. She'll whip me if we don't do this. I promise you I'm telling you the truth. You have to believe me."

"You can't be serious," said Professor Ballard.

"Please, Professor Ballard, I can't take another cunt whipping. Last time, I couldn't walk straight for a week."

"Kendra, this is hardly the time or the place to..."

She was practically babbling now. Her eyes were wild.

"Please, Professor, you won't regret it, I promise. I eat ass too, ma'am. I'm very good at it. Please, you can do whatever you want to me. You can pee on me if you want. Please, we have to go. Now."

She grabbed the older woman by the hand and started pulling her toward the door. Her sense of urgency was palpable. She was obviously on the verge of panic.

At last the professor relented and allowed herself to be led slowly out of the room. She told herself she didn't have a choice. She couldn't let that beautiful pussy get whipped, could she?

It was going to be an interesting evening after all.

Her office was just down the hall.

Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 02



***AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm addicted to your comments and feedback, good and bad. More. Please. ***

*****

Professor Ballard allowed the lithe, young blond to lead her by the hand down the dim hallway. When they reached her office, she fished her key out of her clutch and silently opened the door. She motioned for Kendra to go in first. Ballard followed her and locked the door behind her, then turned to face her student.

Kendra was already wiggling out of her dress. She wore no bra. In a moment, she was naked. She got down on her knees in the middle of the old oriental rug in front of the desk and looked up at Professor Ballard.

The professor paused to admire the girl's perfect body for several long moments. She was perfectly proportioned with full, firm breast s and a heart-shaped ass. Her full hips tapered to a narrow waist and flat stomach. 

She noticed that both nipples were pierced with small gold hoops.

The older woman walked up and cupped the girl's right breast in her left hand. She gently flicked the hoop with the index finger of her right hand.

"Jennifer's idea?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

The professor stared down at the beautiful girl who had been ordered by her mistress to serve her.

"You are truly a vision, Kendra. I'm going to enjoy this very much, dear," she breathed as she lightly flicked the nipple ring final time, then released her breast.

The blond shivered.

"How do you want me, ma'am?" she asked.

"What do you mean, Kendra?"

"I mean do you want to stand over me while I eat you, or do you want to sit in a chair? Or should I lay down so you can sit on my face?"

The professor paused for a moment, thinking.

"I think the chair first," said Professor Ballard firmly.

She walked up to an overstuffed chair in the corner of the office. She bent down and removed a stack of papers, making room for herself and sat down lightly. She made a point of not crossing her legs.

Kendra crawled over and knelt at the feet of her English professor.

Professor Ballard reached down and cupped Kendra's chin in her right hand. She looked her in the eyes as she spoke.

"Will she really whip your pussy with a wire hanger if you don't make me come three times?"

"Yes, ma'am. As I've said, she's done it before," replied the slave.

"She makes you do this often? Service other women or whatever you call it?" asked the professor.

"Yes, ma'am. Women and men. I am used by a guest of my mistress about once a week. Sometimes it's for no reason at all and sometimes it's to return a favor. Like last week, I ate out a friend of hers who helped her study for an important exam. Mistress sent me to the girl's dorm room when she got her passing grade. I ate her out while her roommate watched us from the top bunk.

Professor Ballard was wearing a conservative knee-length skirt. As she spoke, Kendra reached up and began casually hiking up the skirt around the professor's hips.

"It doesn't bother you?" asked Professor Ballard as she lifted her ass off the chair to help free the back of her skirt. 

"I am her property, ma'am. I belong to Jennifer of my own free will. My opinions are of no consequence. I obey her in all things or I am punished."

The professor continued to levitate herself above the cushion of the chair until the young blond drew her panties down and then off.

The professor spread her legs wide and hitched herself forward so her pussy was jutting over the edge of the chair.

Kendra looked up at her from between her legs.

"She will share you too, when she makes you her slave, ma'am."

Then all discussion ceased as she lowered her face to the older woman's pussy.

She was good. Professor Ballard's first orgasm came in less than two minutes. She reached down and grabbed Kendra by the back of the head with both hands as she came in her mouth. The professor was a gusher, not quite a squirter, but close. Things started to get messy very quickly.

The second orgasm took slightly longer to achieve. Kendra alternated between tongue-fucking the professor's pussy and ass, while flicking her clit lightly with the fingers of her left hand. 

Another gusher. Kendra drank greedily, making loud slurping noises.

The professor looked at her watch. They only had eight minutes left.

Kendra turned away quickly, then lay down on her back.

"Please sit on my face, ma'am. It will be easier if you ride me while I lick you. The third one can be tough."

The third one was not tough. It was easy.

Professor Ballard squatted over the girl and lowered herself roughly on to her face. She ground her pussy against her mouth and nose while Kendra continued to probe her deeply with her tongue.

The final orgasm seemed to last the longest. The professor kept her cunt clamped over the student's mouth until the last spasms started to subside, then she gently lifted herself up and off Kendra's face.

She stood and walked back over to the arm chair on wobbly legs and sat down.

Kendra pulled herself up off the floor and crawled over to the feet of the professor. Her face was shiny with the professor's essence. She shouldered her head between the older woman's knees, then gently pushed her legs part with her hands.

"Let me clean you, ma'am. We have time."

Kendra lowered her head and gently licked away the excess liquid from the folds of her glistening sex. The professor sighed contentedly and ran her fingers through the girl's blond hair.

When Kendra was done, she planted a big wet kiss directly on the professor's slit, then looked up.

"Thank you for letting this slut service you, ma'am. I trust you will tell my mistress you were satisfied with my performance."

"You're quite welcome, Kendra. You did a wonderful job, dear."

Then they both dressed quickly and checked their hair and make-up before heading back down the hall to the reception.

Kendra carried the professor's panties bunched up in her right fist.

When they walked in to the room, Jennifer was waiting for them. She was smiling.

"Congratulations, Kendra. You made it with one minute to spare," she said cheerily as she kissed her slave on the corner of her mouth.

Kendra discretely handed her mistress the professor's panties.

Jennifer looked over at Professor Ballard.

"Well how was she, teach?"

The professor smiled.

"Superb, Jennifer. You have trained her well."

Kendra remained standing nearby, smiling down at the floor.

The reception was winding down for the evening. People were leaving in small groups and heading off in to the night.

Kendra was sent to get their coats.

When they were alone, the professor turned to Jennifer and put a hand on her shoulder.

"But Jennifer, you said I could have a taste, didn't you? I haven't had that yet."

Jennifer laughed and kissed the professor on the cheek. 

Kendra had returned with their coats.

"That's why you're coming back with us to our place. It will give us a chance to get better acquainted and go over the terms," said the young mistress brightly.

"The terms of what?" asked the professor.

"Your slavery, of course," she replied breezily as she twirled and walked out of the room with Kendra trailing close behind.

After a moment, the professor followed.



Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 03



***AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you like, please rate and comment.***

*****

The three of them arrived at Jennifer and Kendra's off campus apartment at around 10:00 p.m. It was a sprawling two-bedroom loft in a renovated furniture factory not far from the university. There were tall windows and high ceilings and a lot of exposed brick.

Upon entering the apartment, Kendra immediately began removing her clothing.

Jennifer and the professor stood in the entryway watching the young slave. When Kendra was naked, she picked up a thick black leather collar from a coat stand by the door and nonchalantly buckled it around her neck. Then she walked over to her mistress and helped her out of her coat, placing it in a nearby closet. She did the same for the professor.

When the coats were put away, Kendra came and stood in front of her mistress with her legs spread wide apart and her hands laced behind her head. She thrust out her breasts and tilted her pelvis slightly forward, effectively presenting her tits and pussy to her mistress.

The young mistress cupped her left breast, then reached down and gently patted the slave's cunt before turning back to her guest.

"Kendra is not permitted to wear clothing in my presence, Professor, unless there are squares in the house," she explained. "We currently don't consider you to be a square," she winked.

She turned back to the slave and circled her slowly.

"This is inspection position. She is trained to take this position as soon as I enter the room, or in this case, when we both come home together."

She stood behind the blond slave and gently palmed both of Kendra's ass cheeks, then kissed her on the nape of her neck.

"From this position, I can easily examine all of her holes. It's also a good posture for punishment. I can whip her ass, cunt or tits quite comfortably."

Professor Ballard couldn't take her eyes off of Kendra. The slave's long blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes were emerald green. She was of medium height and exquisitely proportioned. She had large, full breasts and perfectly round, pink areolas the size of silver dollars. She had a narrow waist, a flat stomach and long, slender legs.

For the first time, Professor Ballard noticed there was a large, red plastic dog tag affixed to her collar. She stepped over for a closer look.

The tag read: Jennifer's Cunt.

Jennifer noticed the professor's gaze.

"Just a pet name." She smiled, then put her hands on both of the slave's shoulders.

"Kendra, I think the ruby plug tonight. It's so festive, don't you think."

"Yes, ma'am."

Kendra jogged off toward a bed room.

"I like my slaves to be plugged for at least an hour a day. It helps remind them of their station," explained the young mistress.

In a minute, the blond slave was back.

"Show us," ordered Jennifer curtly.

Kendra turned and bent over, spreading her ass cheeks with both hands. A silver butt plug with a red crystal base protruded from her anus.

"Come have a closer look professor."

Professor Ballard stepped closer and bent slightly toward the slave's ass.

"Looks painful," she said.

"Not at all," said Jennifer. "This is only a three inch plug. Kendra is trained to take much larger objects in her ass, aren't you dear?"

"Yes, ma'am," said the slave softly.

Jennifer reached over and gently clasped the professor's right hand, pulling it toward Kendra's ass.

"Go on, you can touch it. Make sure it's snuggly in place, will you professor?"

The older woman reached out and gently touched the crystal base.

"Give it a little tug," said the young mistress.

Professor Ballard pulled the plug slightly outward. Soon she could see the ring of muscle of Kendra's sphincter stretching tightly around the large, rounded silver protuberance embedded in her ass. 

The slave grunted quietly.

"This is a medium sized plug, professor. Solid steel. Kendra can wear this it for several hours without discomfort. Sometimes I make her wear it to class. In fact, she was wearing it in your class this morning, weren't you, Kendra?"

"Yes, ma'am," said the slave. She continued to hold her ass cheeks apart.

Jennifer gave the plug a final push and smacked Kendra's ass dismissively, then walked away. She led the English professor to a large living room, gesturing toward a cream colored couch. Kendra trailed behind silently.

"Please have a seat Professor Ballard," said the young mistress. 

The pretty brunette student followed the professor in to the room and sat down beside her.

"Kendra, wine," she called out over her shoulder.

Immediately, the blond beauty scampered out of the room, her breasts bouncing and butt plug twinkling as she jogged to the kitchen. She returned in a minute with a chilled bottle of Chardonnay and two glasses.

The slave poured two glassfuls, then knelt at her owner's feet with her hands crossed behind her back.

"Professor, I'll get right to the point," said Jennifer. "I would like very much to acquire you as my slave."

The young mistress reached down and absently played with Kendra's nipple rings as she spoke, flicking one then the other.

"Keep those knees apart, slut," she murmured.

The kneeling slave immediately spread her legs slightly wider apart. Jennifer leaned forward reached and cupped both breasts

"I had these pierced about a year ago. I quite like the way it looks. I'm thinking of doing her cunt next. I think a nice clit ring and a few thick labial rings would be perfect. Maybe with my initials engraved. Would you like that Kendra? Do you want to get you pussy pierced for me?"

The slave kept her eyes on the floor.

"It's your pussy, mistress. You can do whatever you want with it, ma'am."

"Quite right," said Jennifer, giving each nipple ring a final flick.

Then, the beautiful dark haired mistress sat back on the couch and crossed her legs gracefully. She turned slightly to face Professor Ballard.

"I've never owned an older woman, Professor and frankly I find the idea captivating. You would serve me alongside Kendra. What do you say?"

"What do I get in return?" asked the professor coyly, kicking off her shoes and folding her legs beneath her on the couch.

She was flirting with the young co-ed, not taking things too seriously.

"You get to be owned by me, of course," said the Jennifer seriously, taking a sip of wine.

She reached out and put her hand on the professor's shoulder.

"And there are certain fringe benefits," the young mistress added archly.

"Such as?" asked the older woman smiling. 

Jennifer looked down at her slave and snapped her fingers.

"Kendra, position five, please. On the coffee table."

The pretty blond immediately rose up from her knees, then climbed on to the wide low table, gracefully squatting on the smooth oak surface. She perched herself up on the balls of her bare feet with her legs spread wide and her hands laced behind the back of her head. It was a delicately balanced position.

She pushed her chest out in front of her and tilted her pelvis slightly forward so both her breasts and shaven pussy were prominently displayed. She faced the two women on the couch, but kept her eyes lowered submissively. The plug remained snuggly lodged in her ass.

Jennifer removed her right hand from the professor's shoulder, then reached down and gently cupped Kendra's sex. She turned her face to the professor.

"She has a nice looking cunt, doesn't she Professor?"

"Yes, it's lovely," said the older woman softly as she openly stared at the bare pussy in front of her. 

"I keep it shaved at all times. Slave pussy is always shaved," said the young mistress.

"I see," she breathed.

"Is your pussy shaved, Professor?"

"No."

"It will be after tonight," she said.

The older woman looked over at the young mistress. She held her gaze for a few moments, then looked away. She went back to staring at Kendra's cunt.

"You like Kendra, right, Professor?"

"Very much," whispered Professor Ballard huskily, taking a large sip of wine. 

She couldn't look away from the young pussy before her. She was mesmerized.

Jennifer playfully smacked Kendra's cunt with the flat of her hand. 

"How would you like to own her, Professor?" asked the brunette slyly.

Smack.

"What do you mean?" asked the professor skeptically.

"Well, if you were to serve as my slave, I would be happy to give you Kendra as a pet."

Professor Ballard swallowed hard.

"A pet?" she breathed.

"You would both belong to me, of course, but in my absence, you may use her as you wish. She would be your personal sex toy. She's very obedient, aren't you Kendra."

Smack.

"Yes, ma'am," said the young slave softly.

"She ate your pussy nicely this evening, didn't she professor?" asked Jennifer.

"Yes, she did," Professor Ballard croaked. She was breathing heavily through her mouth.

"If you serve me, you can use her whenever you want." 

Smack.

"She'll do whatever you tell her to do, the nastier the better," laughed the young mistress.

Smack.

Jennifer stopped smacking and began casually playing with Kendra's pussy with her fingers as she continued to address the professor.

"Kendra really is the perfect slave, Professor Ballard. She's beautiful, intelligent and submissive to the core. Like you."

The professor flinched and looked over at the young mistress.

"I knew it as soon as I met you, Professor Ballard. You're a natural born submissive. You just don't know it yet." 

She slid two fingers in to Kendra's cunt.

"Kendra is also an authentic humiliation whore and a bit of a pain slut."

She worked her fingers slowly in and out of the slave's pussy.

"She really gets off on being humiliated and degraded, especially in front of others. Isn't that right, Kendra?"

She moved the fingers more quickly.

"Yes ma'am," the slave moaned as she moved against her owner's fingers.

"Do you like being on display in front of our guest, Kendra?"

"Yes, mistress," she gasped.

"Believe it or not, Kendra was a straight, conservative prom queen before I captured her. Now she can't get enough pussy, can you dear?"

"No, mistress," murmured the slave.

"Would you like to be Professor Ballard's personal cunt-slave, Kendra?"

"Oh, God, yes, ma'am."

"What do you think, teach? Would you like to have Kendra as your pet?" asked the young mistress.

"Umm," she said awkwardly. She was having a hard time maintaining her concentration with Kendra's pussy staring her in her face. Young pussy. So close.

"And not just Kendra. You can play with all kinds of girls when you're my slave," said Jennifer evenly.

Professor Ballard shifted her gaze to the face of the young mistress.

"I asked around about you, Professor Ballard. You were a straight arrow up until your divorce. Since then, you've gone a little girl crazy. It's an open secret on campus that you hit on all the pretty girls in your classes. The word is you average about one or two a year."

Professor Ballard said nothing. After a moment, she turned her gaze back to Kendra's pussy.

Jennifer leaned over and whispered in to the older woman's left ear. 

"How would like to have one or two new girls each week? More sometimes."

The professor kept looking straight at Kendra's cunt.

The young mistress continued to whisper in her ear.

"Start with Kendra, of course. Take her home for a week. Own her. Use her. Abuse her. Indulge all those dark fantasies you never had the chance to play out with all your other timid little conquests." 

The professor straightened and leaned back slightly. She took in the vision of Kendra squatting gracefully on the table. Her body was flawless. To have her all to herself for a whole week was almost too delicious to imagine.

Jennifer leaned over and touched the cheek of Professor Ballard with her right hand.

"All I ask in return is that you submit to me completely. Let me train you as my slave," said the young mistress evenly.

There was a pause. Jennifer could sense that the professor was on the edge of acquiescence. Not quite there, but close.

She decided to go in for the kill.

"And don't worry about your career, Professor. Nobody will ever know you are my slave. I will keep you hooded when I share you with others. You will be my secret MILF concubine."

There was a long pause.

Finally, the professor spoke.

"Jennifer, I am intrigued by your offer. I really am. It's just that it's a lot to take in. I had no idea such a world existed on campus and I'm a little overwhelmed. Also, the arrangement seems a little risky to someone in my position."

Jennifer sighed loudly as she continued to play with Kendra's pussy, then inserted her index finger to the hilt and held it there. The slave wobbled slightly on her perch but did not change her position. 

The brunette student started to move her finger in and out slowly as she spoke to her slave.

"Oh, dear. With all this talk, I feel like I've been neglecting you, Kendra. Don't worry, this will all be over soon. I just need to help Professor Ballard clarify her options so she can make the right decision. This won't take long." 

She withdrew her finger from the slave's pussy and held it up before the face of the professor seated next to her on the couch.

"Open," said the young mistress.

"Excuse, me?"

"Open your mouth, please Professor," said Jennifer patiently.

After a moment of hesitation, the older woman opened her mouth. She couldn't deny that she wanted a taste. She looked Jennifer in the eye as she took the glistening finger in her mouth.

"Don't talk. Suck," Said Jennifer firmly.

Professor Ballard began to suck.

"Professor, we are all so very impressed with your position at the university, but please allow me to enlighten you about your position in life."

The professor continued to suck the finger in her mouth as she gazed in to the eyes of the dark beauty before her. 

"You are a fairly well-preserved, middle aged suburban cow who discovered her sexuality later in life and is now faced with a very limited set of options."

The professor's eyes widened and she gave a soft grunt of protest around the finger in her mouth. 

"Forgive my bluntness dear but I'm through pussyfooting around with you. If I say anything that doesn't ring true please feel free to correct me or simply get up and leave."

The professor didn't move. 

The young mistress continued. 

"Your situation is somewhat complicated by the fact that you like your girls youthful and fresh. No boxy, mannish fifty year old life-partners for you, right Professor?"

Jennifer withdrew her finger from Professor Ballard' mouth and freshened it briefly in Kendra's cunt before raising it again to the older woman's face. 

This time Professor Ballard did not need to be told. She opened her mouth quickly, accepting the finger without protest. 

"So now Professor you find yourself somewhat adrift, an aging dyke hopelessly addicted to young pussy." 

She began slowly moving the finger in and out of the older woman's mouth, fucking it like a pussy. 

The professor moaned. 

"You desperately scrabble from one tedious affair to the next, spouting quaint reassurances and telling soft little lies to shy girls in the dark. All to get your face between the legs of the next girl. And the next."

She touched the professor's cheek with her left hand. She was trembling softly. 

"But it's getting harder isn't it Professor? These girls of yours are twenty five years younger than you. At some point, you have to ask yourself, how much longer the can the party last?" 

Without taking her finger from the professor's mouth she reached over and cupped the older woman's right breast with her left hand over her blouse. 

"These udders are already starting to sag aren't they, my dear. The lines on your face aren't getting any smoother. How many more years do you think you have left until you won't be able to ensnare even the mousiest little bi-curious hippie chick?" 

She let go of her breast and looked the older woman in the eyes. 

"I'm sorry to tell you professor, but the day will come when young pussy will abandon you forever. It will happen to us all, but for you the day of reckoning is right around the corner."

She withdrew and re-dipped her finger before placing it back in to the professor's mouth. 

"I'm offering you a chance to immerse yourself in your one true passion. Why not make your last seasons the best you've ever run?"

Jennifer made a sweeping gesture with her left arm.

"Let me tell you what's out there professor. I don't think you fully understand. This is a big university with a very rich BDSM subculture. There are plenty of mistresses and delicious little slaves for us to play with. An unlimited supply of cunt. I know them all." 

Jennifer resumed fucking the professor's mouth with her finger.

"I'm offering you a ticket to the party. Entre nous. You will be the belle of the ball. The girls will be practically lining up around the block to try out the tongue of my little pet MILF." 

Finally, Jennifer withdrew her finger from Professor Ballard's mouth and casually wiped it on the older woman's hair.

"I can protect your career and your identity. That's not a problem. Don't let professional paranoia stop you from tasting the essence of the life you truly deserve." 

She placed both hands lightly on the professor's shoulders.

"All I ask in return is absolute obedience. Submit to me. I will train you. You will enjoy it. I promise."

Jennifer gave the professor's shoulders a gentle squeeze, then got up off the couch. She walked slowly around the coffee table and stood in the middle of the living room carpet.

The young mistress paused for a moment, then casually reached under her skirt and rolled her panties down her shapely legs.

"Consider it kismet, professor. I mean what are the odds? Providence has placed you in the perfect position to indulge your deepest, darkest fantasies in real life. You're an intelligent woman. Do you really think you will ever get another chance to essentially serve as a harem slave for a bunch of horny college girls?" 

Jennifer stepped out of her panties, then folded them neatly and placed them on the coffee table beside Kendra who continued to squat on the table stoically.

"Here's what's going to happen next, Professor. You are going to strip and crawl to me. Then you are going to lay down on your back and I am going to hike up my skirt and sit on your face."

Jennifer shifted her gaze to Kendra.

"Kendra, get the crop, please."

The professor's eyes widened as the blond slave immediately scrambled off the coffee table and jogged out of the room.

The young mistress looked down at the older woman seated on her couch.

"It's time for your baptism of pain, Professor. I am going to crop your cunt while you eat me. If you succeed in making me come, I will allow you to beg me to fuck you up the ass with my strap-on."

The professor continued to stare at the young brunette mutely.

"Have you ever been fucked up the ass with a strap-on, Professor?"

"No," she croaked.

"Use the proper form, slut," hissed Jennifer. "No, what?"

"No, ma'am," whispered the professor. "I've never been fucked up the ass with a strap-on."

"A slut cannot truly be owned until she offers her ass to her mistress. Only then will I accept you as my slave."

Professor Ballard remained seated quietly on the comfortable couch, but her thoughts were racing. Could she really do this? What about her reputation and her career? Jennifer said she could protect her identity, but could she really take that chance? For a few moments she was torn between her deepest and darkest desires and the practical concerns of common sense. 

Then, she thought about what she was being offered in return. Young pussy. Lots and lots of young pussy. An endless supply. She pictured Kendra's cunt in her mind and was immediately suffused with a profound sense of serenity. She closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. Then, everything became clear to her. She knew where she belonged. She suddenly knew what she was. She realized she was wet.




Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 03



After all, life was short. 

How could she do this? The answer was simple. How could she not?

When Jennifer spoke again, her tone was gentle, almost conciliatory.

"Professor, I'm not going to lie to you. Your initiation tonight is going to hurt. A lot. But to show I can be a generous mistress, I will allow you the comfort of eating Kendra's pussy while I fuck your ass. That should take away some measure of the pain."

The young mistress straightened, then folded her arms, staring for a long moment in to the eyes of the older woman sitting on her living room couch.

Then, she snapped he fingers and her voice hardened as she asserted her command.

"Now, strip and crawl to me, whore. Or get out and don't ever come back."

Professor Ballard was calm now. She was quietly eager to begin her new life, but she forced herself to slow down and pause meaningfully. She wanted to play it just right. She made a big show of hesitating for a few seconds, then reached up and began slowly unbuttoning her blouse with trembling fingers.

In a moment, the blouse was off and the older woman was fumbling behind her back at her bra. Soon, her breasts swung free. Then, she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it neatly. She stood naked in front of her new mistress for the first time.

Professor Ballard was still in good shape for a 44 year old woman. She had long auburn hair, which was currently pulled back in to a tight bun. She had large, blue eyes and straight white teeth. Her breasts were still full and firm. Perhaps there was the slightest hint of a sag, but it was very hard to detect on casual inspection. Her waist was narrow and her legs were well-muscled and taught. Her belly was almost flat. Almost. The thin patch of her neatly trimmed bush exactly matched the color of the hair on her head.

She stood for a long moment, letting the dark haired student inspect her from across the room.

Then, without a word, the professor dropped to her hands and knees and crawled toward the feet of the young mistress. She moved slowly and haltingly, trying to convey a sense of hesitation she did not in fact feel. She was thinking of her mistress now. She wanted to please her. Professor Ballard thought the young brunette might savor the gift of her submission more deeply if she thought it was laced with a dark ribbon of reluctance.

But there was no reluctance. Her heart was singing. She felt not a single iota of regret. She knew that she was crawling toward her destiny. She was acutely aware of the rightness of the moment. She was going to finally become what she knew she truly wanted to be: a slave to young pussy.

She swayed her hips seductively and let her breasts swing lewdly beneath her as she crawled. She was aware that her pussy was leaking down the insides of her thighs. She had changed. She was no longer a sensible, middle aged college professor. She was now a vessel of lust. She was brimming with primitive, implacable need. 

The slave arrived at the feet of her new mistress and paused for a moment like a dog coming to heel.

Then without being told, the professor pivoted on her elbows and lay down flat on her back. She spread her legs wide and placed her arms docilely at her sides.

She was ready.

She thought about the pain she would have to endure to prove herself a worthy slave. She was not overly concerned. In her mind, a cunt-whipping and an ass-fucking seemed like a small price to pay for young pussy. She had been through worse in the past. Much worse. Sometimes young pussy could be cruel.

Out of the corner of her eye, the professor saw Kendra walk up to Jennifer and hand her the crop. The young mistress stood over the professor and held the crop out in front of her. The older woman examined the instrument of her torture closely. It was about two and a half feet long with a braided leather handle. There was a long, thin shaft. The business end terminated in a rectangle of leather about three inches long and two inches wide.

The dark haired mistress looked down at the professor.

"Here's how the game is played," she said softly. "I'm going to sit on your face and you are going to do your best to make me come using only your mouth and tongue. While you eat me, I will whip your pussy with the crop as hard as I can. The whipping will not stop until you make me come. Do you understand the rules, Professor Ballard?"

"Yes, mistress," said the professor meekly.

"If the pain becomes too much for you, we can stop. Just raise both hands up off the floor palms up. That will be our signal that this test was simply beyond your endurance. If I see that signal, I will stop whipping you immediately. You will then get dressed and leave and you will never come back again. Do you understand, Professor Ballard?"

"Yes, ma'am. That won't happen mistress. I promise," the older slave said resolutely.

"I should hope not, Professor," said the dark haired student curtly.

Jennifer stepped up and straddled the older woman's face. 

"Kendra, please kneel down and hold her legs open for me at the ankles, sweetie."

"Yes, mistress," said the blond slave, dropping in to position. She held the professor's ankles widely apart, leaning her own body back to allow Jennifer enough room to swing the crop freely.

At last the young mistress hiked up her skirt and looked down at the face of the professor.

"Please mind the carpet, Professor Ballard. I can be a bit of a squirter," she said and then lowered herself slowly on to the face of the middle aged woman. 

The older slave's tongue was already stretched out to maximum extension when she made first contact with the pussy of her mistress. The professor immediately began to lick and slurp eagerly at the glistening folds her sex. In a moment she felt the student begin to move slowly against her.

Jennifer took a few seconds to enjoy the sensation of the professor's tongue. She was good, she thought. She was going to be fun to train. Then she reached down and picked up the riding crop with her right hand. She raised it almost daintily above the professor's exposed pussy. She looked across the professor's body at Kendra and smiled. Kendra did not smile back. She knew what was coming. The young mistress hesitated for another long moment, grinding her cunt against the bridge of Professor Ballard's nose.

Then she struck.

Professor Ballard screamed.

After a few initial strokes to get the slave's attention, Jennifer adjusted herself lightly on the professor's face and settled in to steady rhythm of whipping.

She began to savor the pain she was causing.

As a mistress, Jennifer felt very strongly that pain was an integral part of effective slave training. Pain mattered. Pain was transformative. Pain was absolutely necessary to validate a slave's submission. 

She continued to strike. Professor Ballard continued to scream. Jennifer could see dark red stripes and welts already starting to appear on the older woman's vulva. This one will mark nicely, she thought.

As far as Jennifer was concerned, a slave could not be fully owned until she submitted to the systematic application of pain inflicted upon her person by the hand of her mistress. 

Jennifer increased the tempo of her swats, focusing on the older woman's taint for a few strokes. She knew this was a very sensitive area. Professor Ballard began begging between screams. They all did that the first time, she mused.

The young mistress knew that the pain had to be real to be effective. Not a slap on the wrist. Not even a sound spanking would do. No, to truly break a slave, you needed to induce deep, elemental gouts of pure agony. When using a female slave, the best way to get the job done was a good old fashioned cunt whipping.

She shifted the angle of her approach and concentrated on hitting the slave directly on the clit. Professor Ballard arched her back and howled. She began bargaining between screams. The things she would do! 

She paused for a moment and let the slave lick her without feeling the crop. As usual, she felt the tongue quicken beneath her. The professor was trying to show her she could be enthusiastic. They always thought if they did a good enough job that maybe the whipping would slow down.

She resumed the whipping, this time at the fastest pace yet. Professor Ballard seemed to be getting a little hoarse. She began mewling and grunting between screams.

Jennifer was a big believer in pussy whipping. Aside from providing the necessary element of pain, pussy whipping had other benefits during training. In Jennifer's experience nothing clarified the mind and concentrated the senses better than a few good swats between the legs. After that, they usually got the message. They were obedient and attentive. They became girls who would do as they were told. Anything to avoid another cropping.

The crop sang out again and again as Professor Ballard continued to whimper and scream in to the pussy of her new mistress.

The young mistress loved it when a slave screamed in to her pussy. There was something magical about the sonic vibrations produced by a full-throated scream directed straight in to the folds of a wet cunt. After a brief period of trial and error, Jennifer found that hitting Professor Ballard's clit directly with the shaft of the crop produced the best results.

The professor was in heaven and in hell. She was eating young pussy, so she was happy on one elemental level. Her mistress tasted so sweet and there was so much of her nectar to drink. She inhaled her essence. She was moaning and groveling in gratitude in to the descending warmth and wetness. This is where she belonged. 

Then the crop would fall.

The older woman had never screamed so loudly in her life. She had never imagined any sensation could possibly be so painful. She learned to recognize and dread certain combinations of strokes. She began to fear the direct hits with the shaft of the crop on her most sensitive areas. No place was safe. The crop found her clit, her labia, her slit, her inner things, her belly and her taint. One time, she felt a deep, stinging impact directly on her asshole. Her entire perineum was on fire.

She began sobbing quietly between screams.

And still she licked. Several times she considered giving up. The pain was just too much to bear and the young pussy above her seemed impervious to her lingual ministrations. 

Then she felt a subtle shift in the tempo and quality of the young student's gyrations atop her face and her hopes soared. She redoubled her efforts, flicking her tongue against the young student's engorged clit with frantic intensity.

The brunette mistress was sweating and grunting with exertion now. She was grinding her cunt with all her weight against the professor's face as she continued to swing the crop fiercely. She was close. She could feel the dark wave rising within her.

Jennifer was able to deliver three more well-aimed strokes to Professor Ballard's clit before finally surrendering to her need. She dropped the crop in mid-swing and reached down, closing her hands around the professor's jaws and sealing her mouth against her cunt. The young mistress gave one final, slow grind against the professor's face, then arched her back, curled her toes and hurled herself in to the abyss.

Professor Ballard was close to exhaustion when her deliverance finally arrived. This time, there was no mistaking the signs. Her mistress was about to come on her face. She felt three sharp swats fall directly on her clit in rapid succession, then the pain abruptly stopped. Dimly, she was aware of strong hands closing around her face. Then she felt her new mistress stiffen above her.

"Oh, God!" screamed Jennifer as she erupted in to her slave's mouth.

The pretty brunette was indeed a squirter. The professor sputtered and coughed as about a half a cup of her new owner's essence was deposited directly in her mouth with the first spasm of her release. Then the older slave steadied herself and began to drink. 

The orgasm lasted for about a minute. Jennifer continued to buck atop her face and gush in to the mouth of her new slave as she rode wave after wave of dark, primal pleasure. Professor Ballard drank greedily beneath her.

Finally it was over.

Gracefully, the young mistress lifted herself off of the face of her new slave. 

She looked down at Professor Ballard as she remained standing astride her. The older woman was a wet mess. Her hair was plastered to her forehead. Her make-up and mascara were running. Her face, neck and chest were shiny with the secretions of her new mistress. She was smiling dreamily.

"I think you'll do, Professor. You have a very clever tongue," said the pretty brunette.

Slowly, she reached down and brought the leather tip of the crop to the professor's mouth.

"Kiss the crop."

Professor Ballard dutifully kissed the rectangle of leather.

Then the young mistress placed the crop on the coffee table and walked slowly back to the couch. She sat down and spread her legs open wide, pulling her skirt above her hips.

She looked over at the older woman still laying on the floor. 

"Well, you're half way home, Professor Ballard. All you need to do now is take my strap-on in your ass and you'll be mine. But I'll give you a chance to catch your breath. Crawl over here and clean me and don't forget my ass. There was a lot of spillage, I'm afraid."

The professor didn't need to be told twice. She had been cropped. She understood the importance of obedience.

For the second time in twenty minutes, Professor Ballard found herself crawling across the room toward the feet of her mistress. She took her place between the legs of the beautiful brunette and began slowly lapping up the excess moisture from the folds of her pussy. Then she gently spread her ass cheeks and laved out the young student's asshole.

As she was finishing up, she heard her mistress addressing her fellow slave who was kneeling beside her.

"Kendra, please go get a collar for my new slave."

The blond student immediately jumped to her feet and started jogging out of the room.

Jennifer hooked her right index finger under the chin of the older woman kneeling between her legs. She tilted her face upward until their eyes met.

"And bring me my strap-on!" shouted the young mistress over her shoulder at the running girl.

The young mistress looked back down at Professor Ballard and smiled.

"The big one."



Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 04



"Not good enough, you dumb cow. Try again," said the young mistress sternly.

Kathleen Ballard took a moment to compose herself. She was an English professor. She should be able to string together a few coherent sentences and come up with a compelling and convincing argument that would satisfy her new mistress.

Professor Ballard was a 44 year-old divorcee who had discovered lesbianism relatively late in life. She liked her girls young. She had met two of her students at a faculty reception earlier in the evening and had been lured back to their off-campus apartment. After a brief period of flirtation and some intense and honest introspection, she had agreed to become the slave of Jennifer Parker, a 21 year-old senior.

Presently, the professor was naked and collared and kneeling between the legs of her new mistress. Her fellow slave, Kendra Wilson, a junior at the university, also collared and naked, knelt beside her. Their beautiful brunette mistress had also disrobed. She was sitting patiently on her living room couch, wearing a large strap-on dildo.

Professor Ballard had spent the last fifteen minutes on her knees begging the petit brunette to fuck her up the ass. 

Earlier in the evening, the professor had been cunt-whipped for the first time by her young mistress as part of her initiation in to slavery. To finalize the deal, Professor Ballard had to convince her new owner to take her ass.

Jennifer was playing hard-to-get. She was obviously enjoying the older woman's discomfiture.

To give herself a little more time to think, the professor leaned forward and took the large black dildo in to her mouth again. She began to bob her head up and down, taking in as much she could with each plunge. The dildo was at least eight inches long and seemed almost as thick as a can of soda. Professor Ballard gagged several times as she tested the limits of her gullet. She had no idea how she was going to fit this beast in to her ass, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. First, she had to convince her mistress to fuck her.

After a few seconds, the professor expelled the dildo from her mouth and took a deep breath. She looked up at her mistress as she spoke.

"Please, mistress, I am begging you. Use this worthless whore's ass for your amusement. I'm a virgin back there, mistress. Nobody has ever fucked my ass. Please take my cherry. I'm offering it to you as tribute. Mark me as yours, ma'am. I promise I'll do whatever you say if you take me. Use me however you want. I'll be a good whore for you."

The professor continued to stare in to the eyes of her new mistress. She hoped she wasn't pouring it on too thick.

The pretty brunette mistress paused reflectively for a long moment. She touched the tip of her right index finger to her chin.

"Hmm. Well, okay," said the young brunette brightly. "If you insist, Professor Ballard, I will gladly fuck you up the ass. Get on all fours please."

Professor Ballard immediately pivoted on her knees and got on all fours with her ass facing her mistress.

"Kendra, wet her for me, please."

The pretty blond slave immediately crawled over to the middle-aged woman and pulled her ass cheeks apart with both hands. She then began running her tongue up and down the older slave's crack, slathering as much saliva as she could on the puckered ring of muscle.

The young mistress stood, then got down on her knees behind the professor. The large strap-on bobbed lewdly before her as she adjusted herself and got in to position. Kendra was still laving the professor's asshole noisily, making loud slurping sounds. The new slave began to moan.

"Let's see what we have here," said the young mistress.

She held out her right index finger to Kendra. The blond slave immediately let go of the professor's ass and crawled over to take the digit in her mouth, coating it with her saliva.

After a moment, Jennifer withdrew her finger from the Kendra's mouth.

"Hold her open for me," said the pretty brunette evenly.

The blonde slave knelt to the right of the professor and drew apart the older slave's shapely ass cheeks.

Without preamble, Jennifer plunged the finger in to the professor's asshole to the hilt.

Professor Ballard grunted, but did not move.

"You have a very pretty asshole, Professor," said the dark haired beauty as she began to saw her finger in and out of the tight passage.

"Thank you, mistress," breathed the professor.

"Nice and tight for an old cow like you."

"Thank you ma'am."

Jennifer worked another finger in to her ass. The older slave began to squirm slightly.

The young mistress smacked the professor smartly on the ass with her left hand.

"Be still, slut. I need to widen you."

The professor immediately stopped squirming and remained perfectly still. Her pussy whipping was still fresh in her mind. She understood the importance of obedience.

"Kendra, I'm going to need actual lube. It wouldn't be safe to dry-fuck a virgin ass. Please run and get the large bottle, will you?" she commanded breezily.

The blond slave immediately jumped to her feet and scampered out of the room. In a moment she was back with a large jug of clear lubricant. She handed the bottle to her owner.

"Thank you Kendra. Now, please lie down and get ready to feed her your pussy. I will let you have her tongue when I'm all the way in."

The pretty blond slave circled to the front of the professor and sat down nimbly. She leaned back on her hands and spread her legs wide apart, scootching herself forward slightly so her pussy was only inches from Professor Ballard's face.

"Professor Ballard, please pull your cheeks apart for me, dear. Offer me your hole," she said.

The older slave lowered her forehead to the ground to help balance herself, then dutifully reached back with both hands and spread herself for her new owner.

The petite brunette drizzled some lube directly on to the two fingers she had already stuffed up the professor's ass. She could feel the muscular tissue softening and beginning to yield to her ministrations as she continued to gradually apply more pressure against the edges of her canal with her two fingers.

In a moment, the third finger was in.

The mistress began rotating and twisting the three fingers to the right and left as she plunged them in and out of the professor's ass. She could clearly hear the older woman panting loudly.

In a moment, a fourth finger was in. 

She fucked the professor's ass with all four fingers for a few minutes until she was satisfied that she had dilated the passage enough to accept her cock. Finally, she sank her fingers in to the hilt and paused.

She was ready.

"It's time, Professor. Time for me to make you my slave."

"Yes, ma'am. Oh, God, please."

"Do you want to be owned by me, Professor Ballard?" asked the young mistress, casually.

"Yes, mistress."

"Do you want to be my lezzie whore?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm begging you."

"Ask me nicely to fuck your ass, Professor." 

"Please fuck me mistress. Please use your whore's ass."

"Very well, slut," said the blue eyed mistress as she withdrew her fingers from the older woman's ass.

The petit brunette leaned forward across the professor's body, then reached out and casually held her hand in front of her new slave's face.

"Clean these for me, please, cunt."

Professor Ballard turned her head to the right and engulfed the four wet fingers in to her mouth. She sucked and licked them clean, moaning softly as she did so.

After a moment, Jennifer withdrew her hand from the slave's mouth and closed it around the shaft of the large strap-on dildo.

"Here it comes, Professor," said the dark haired mistress as she carefully placed the bulbous head of the large phallus against the older woman's virgin hole.

Jennifer advanced the dildo slowly and methodically. She watched as the ring of muscle stretched tightly around the large head.

The professor was breathing heavily and grunting. She began to push back against the dildo.

"Bear down, Professor," said the mistress curtly.

The effect was instantaneous. Jennifer felt a moment of increased resistance, then a subtle pop as the large head cleared the professor's tight sphincter.

"Oh, God!" groaned the new slave.

The young mistress steadied herself on her knees behind the professor. Then, she reached out with both hands and grabbed the older woman firmly by the hips.

"Feel free to scream, Professor Ballard, but try not to squirm around too much. I don't want to tear you, " she said matter-of-factly.

Then she thrust her hips forward and slammed the dildo deep in to the older slave's ass with all her might.

Professor Ballard screamed. She felt like she was being torn apart. The pain was majestic and transcendent. She almost blacked out. She felt hot tears come to her eyes. 

The slave began to whimper piteously, but she did not move. She stayed stock-still as instructed by her owner. 

Jennifer paused with the dildo inserted to the hilt in the professor's ass. She smacked her new slave's ass hard with the flat of her right hand.

"Settle down, cunt. The worst part is over. You did well. You may now eat Kendra's pussy. Do a good job, please."

Kendra shifted herself forward a few inches as Professor Ballard lowered her face to the blond slave's pussy and began to lick.

Jennifer began fucking her slave's ass in a slow, easy rhythm.

The professor tried to focus on enjoying the ripe, young pussy before her. After a few long moments, she was surprised to realize that the pain in her ass had start to lessen, then finally it disappeared completely. The pain was replaced by a sensation of fullness that was not entirely unpleasant.

The middle-aged slave began to move against the dildo, pushing back to allow for deeper penetration. 

The young mistress increased the tempo of her thrusts gradually. Soon she was slamming the dildo in with all her strength. Professor Ballard was began moaning deeply into Kendra's pussy as she continued to lick the blond slave.

The pretty brunette slowed her thrusts, then leaned forward to whisper in the older woman's ear.

"I own you now, whore," breathed the mistress.

"Yes. Oh, God. Yes. Thank you." gasped the older woman between strokes, before lowering her face again to Kendra's shaven pussy.

Professor Ballard continued to feed on the blond slave's cunt. After a while, she felt Kendra quicken under her tongue. The blond slave began moaning and rocking her pelvis furiously against the older slave's face.

Inevitably, her need overwhelmed her.

"Can I come, mistress?" Kendra asked plaintively.

The young mistress didn't hesitate.

"Yes, Kendra, come on your teacher's face for me," said the petit mistress.

Kendra arched her back, then screamed and reached down with both hands, pulling Professor Ballard's face into her pussy as she came. The older woman drank in her essence, slurping loudly.

Then, the new MILF slave plunged back in for more.

And still the ass-fucking continued.

At last the young mistress reached around proprietarily with her left hand and began rubbing the professor's clit.

"I want to see you come for me with my cock in your ass, slut."

"Yes, mistress," the slave grunted as she continued to slam herself back against the dildo in her ass.

Professor Ballard was already close to the edge of orgasm. The young mistress flicked her clit lightly, then began rubbing it with her finger using rapid circular motions. Jennifer leaned forward and whispered in the professor's ear again.

"Ask permission, slut."

After only a few seconds, the older woman began bucking harder against the dildo in her ass, then began to grind her clit against the hand of her mistress in time with each thrust.

"Please." she gasped.

"Please what, whore?"

"Please can I come, ma'am."

"What are you, Professor Ballard?"

"I'm your whore, mistress."

"Yes, you are." She smacked her new slave's ass cheeks with both hands as hard as she could, then grabbed ahold of both globes and squeezed.

"Come for me like a whore, Professor. Give yourself to me. Now." 

The middle-aged professor bucked against the cock in her ass a for few more strokes, then arched her back and screamed in to Kendra's cunt as she exploded.

The mistress watched, detached, as the older slave's body was wracked by her orgasm. She saw Professor Ballard's sphincter contract involuntarily around the thick dildo embedded in her ass. She smiled.

She was hers.

When the spasms finally subsided, Jennifer gently withdrew the dildo from her ass. There was an audible "plop" as the large head popped out of the older woman's tight sphicter.

Jennifer stood. She walked slowly over to the couch and sat down.

She looked down at her new slave. Professor Ballard was licking Kendra's pussy lazily, swaying her hips and shaking her ass wantonly as she plunged her tongue deeper in to the folds of the blond slave's sex. She was moaning as she sucked and slurped up the drippings of the young student.

Jennifer let Professor Ballard have her fill.

After a few minutes, she snapped her fingers.

"That's enough, cunt. Crawl over here and clean my cock, please."

Professor Ballard lifted her face from Kendra's pussy, then crawled over and kneeled between the legs of her young mistress. She began dutifully licking the large phallus clean.

Jennifer played with the professor's hair absently as the older woman methodically sucked the dildo clean.

"You did well tonight, Professor, " she said.

"Thank you mistress," the slave said softly between licks.

"Did you like Kendra's pussy, Professor? Sweet, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, ma'am." 

"Good, I'm glad you enjoyed it. You'll be seeing a lot of it. I promise."

The young mistress over the head of the kneeling professor, directing her words to the blond slave still laying on the floor with her legs spread wide in post-orgasmic bliss.

"Kendra, come."

The blond slave immediately got up on her knees, then crawled to the feet of her mistress. She kneeled beside Professor Ballard, who continued to clean the large, black strap-on with her mouth.

Jennifer reached out and patted Kendra's head lightly.

"Go pack your bags, dear. You'll be going home with Professor Ballard for the week. Make sure you pack enough toys for seven full days. You'll need whips and cuffs and plugs, all the usual accoutrements. And bring the large strap-on."

"Yes, ma'am," said Kendra. Then she stood and jogged out of the room.

Professor Ballard looked up at her mistress lovingly above the large dildo in her mouth. 

Then she spit out the phallus and smiled greedily. 

"I can't believe I get to keep her as a pet for a whole week," she beamed.

Jennifer paused for few seconds before replying.

"Oh, yes. About that. Slight change of plans, Professor," she said curtly.

The older slave's smile faltered slightly as she continued to look up at her mistress.

"Kendra is going home with you for the week, but not as your pet."

Professor Ballard stared up at her mistress quizzically.

"I'm giving you to her instead. She's will be your mistress for the week."

Professor Ballard said nothing for a moment, letting the words sink in slowly before she spoke.

"I don't understand, ma'am. Isn't she a slave, like me?"

"She's a switch. Quite the wicked dominatrix when she wants to be, our Kendra. They say slaves make the cruelest mistresses," said Jennifer reflectively.

"But I thought I was to be your slave, mistress," said the older slave uneasily.

When she spoke, Jennifer's tone was exasperated.

"You are, you stupid cow, I still own you as I own Kendra. I'm just using her to help break you in and expedite your training due to certain time constraints."

"Time constraints? I don't understand, ma'am."

"Next week is tough for me," said the brunette mistress evenly. "I have two tests. I just won't have enough time to get you trained properly in time for the party." 

"Party?" asked Professor Ballard as alarm bells began going off in her head.

"One of the sororities is having a party next Saturday. I told the president I would put together some entertainment for the new pledges."

The professor felt a sense of impending doom, followed immediately by an undeniable quickening in her loins.

The young mistress smiled down at her newest slave. She reached down and gently cupped the older woman's chin in her right hand, tilting her face upward until their eyes met.

"You're going to be the star of the show."



Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 05



Professor Ballard woke up on her stomach on her bedroom floor. She was naked and collared. She ached all over. Her hands were cuffed behind her back. She lay still in the coolness of the morning. It had been a rough three days. She heard Kendra snoring lightly in the bed above her.

She craned her neck and looked up at the clock on the nightstand.  It was time to wake up her mistress. It was Wednesday morning. They both had to be at class at eight o'clock.

The professor rolled herself over on to her side, then rocked herself up on to her knees. Her mistress liked to keep her slave cuffed during tongue-training. She was getting used to maneuvering herself around without using her hands.  

Professor Ballard was getting used to a lot of things.

Like not wearing clothes. Or always being collared at home. Never wearing underwear, even at work. Keeping her pussy shaved. Not being allowed to sit on her own furniture. Having to ask for permission to come. She was even getting used to wearing the medium-sized plug in her ass.

She was having a harder time getting used to the daily whippings. 

The professor stood on shaky legs and examined her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Her ass, breasts and pussy were all striped with angry red welts. There were yellowing bruises on her thighs and belly.

Her mistress, Jennifer Parker, was a big believer in daily punishment for new slaves, whether they deserved it or not. She believed that pain was the necessary currency of true submission. Payment was required in full each day. Kendra had been ordered to whip the professor daily. Forty strokes. Ever the over-achiever, Kendra had elected to double the ration, so the professor was punished twice a day, morning and night.

Kendra had been living with the professor for three days now. The pretty blonde switch had been ordered by their mutual owner to act as the professor's live-in slave trainer. It was Kendra's responsibility to get the middle-aged slave prepared properly for the big sorority party this weekend. 

Both Kendra and Professor Ballard were going to serve as the entertainment for the new pledges.  Kendra had been told that she was the one who would be punished if the professor didn't perform adequately. As a result, the pretty blond junior had been quite the attentive guest mistress.

The training was intense. The new slave needed to learn absolute obedience. Hence the whippings. She also had to accept her new role in life. She was now property; a sexual object to be used by others. This is why Professor Ballard started each day with her hands cuffed behind her back and her face buried between the legs of her surrogate mistress. It was her job to wake Kendra with her tongue. The daily ritual helped to remind her of her new station in life.

This is what she was now. A tongue-slave.

As she stood in the morning gloom, the professor reflected on her previous three days of training.

On the first day of her captivity in her home, Professor Ballard had spent over eight hours servicing Kendra with her tongue. She had started with the toes and worked her way up the beautiful coed's shapely body. 

The slave had been cuffed, blindfolded and plugged the entire time. Kendra explained that this would help concentrate her senses on the task at hand. She was told to focus all of her energy on her tongue and only her tongue.  She had lapped and licked and flicked her way up and down Kendra's body until the wet, pink ribbon of muscle in her mouth was quivering with fatigue.

Then she had licked some more.

The professor's technique was very good, but that wasn't enough. A tongue-slave also needed to achieve the proper level of endurance. This could not be taught. It had to be attained gradually and methodically through hours of patient practice. 

This is why Kendra had timed the slave's lingual exercises to the minute:

One hour spent licking and sucking the toes of each foot.

Three hours devoted to licking pussy.          Two hours eating and worshipping ass.          Thirty minutes lapping each armpit.

The professor was a very eager student. The crop helped, of course. But it soon became apparent that the older slave had a natural affinity for oral service. She had an unusually long and limber tongue. By the end of the first day of her slavery, she had learned to waggle it well.

Kendra had been so impressed with Professor Ballard's tongue that she had phoned Jennifer on Sunday evening and suggested the new slave be named after her most useful anatomic appendage.  After all, a slave needed a name.  The older slave was kneeling at Kendra's feet as her temporary mistress spoke on the phone to their owner. She heard her raven-haired mistress laughing musically on the other end of the line as decided on her new slave's name.  It was soon settled. The new slave would be called Tongue.

The next day, Tongue was cut back to just four hours a day of oral service. The other time was devoted to punishment and obedience training.  She was whipped and spanked and cropped on her breasts, cunt and ass. Her nipples, labia and clit were pegged with old-fashioned thick wooden clothes pins for hours at a time. She exercised under the crop. She was introduced to hot candle wax. She was trained to beg for her punishment.  The slave was also systematically degraded and humiliated.

She learned how to crawl properly. She ate her meals out of a bowl off the kitchen floor. She masturbated for Kendra's amusement by humping herself against her mistress's shin. She learned how to make herself squirt by fucking herself with a wooden spoon, then lapped her drippings up off the linoleum floor. She spent thirty minutes each night kneeling in the corner of the den with her nose pressed against the wall and her thumb shoved up her ass as her mistress watched the evening news. She was fisted. She was toe-fucked in her ass and foot-fucked in her cunt. She licked Kendra clean after she peed, begging each time for the privilege. 

It had been a busy three days.

The training worked like a charm. The older slave took to her new life like a fish to water. She was indeed a born submissive. She participated eagerly in her own debasement. She discovered that it made her wet to be treated like a whore. She began to physically crave abuse. 

Professor Ballard loved being owned.

The only thing she didn't like was the pain. She wasn't a pain-slut.

Not yet.

The slave snapped herself out of her reverie.

She straightened herself in the quiet bedroom, stretching her back as best she could with her hands bound behind her. It was time to get started. 

No sense in putting it off.

She climbed nimbly up on to the bed, then leaned down and shimmied herself forward on her stomach until she was under the covers between Kendra's legs. Then she lowered her face to the familiar smooth pussy and began to lick.

As usual, Kendra awoke slowly. 

After about five minutes, the blonde student began to grind herself slowly against the competent tongue of the professor.  

She came five minutes after that. 

Tongue was getting good at her job.

After letting the slave lick her clean, Kendra gently pushed the older woman away from her crotch. Tongue immediately slid off the bed and kneeled on the floor with her head bowed. Kendra lolled in bed for a few more minutes, then rose languidly and circled around behind the kneeling slave. She quickly disconnected the fastener holding the leather wrist cuffs together behind Professor Ballard's back.

The professor rubbed her wrists with her hands for a few seconds, then stood and assumed the inspection position in the middle of her bedroom with her legs spread wide and her hands laced behind her neck. 

It was time for her morning whipping. 

Kendra remained unselfconsciously nude as she circled her slave slowly.

Finally, the blonde mistress spoke for the first time.

"What did we end with last night? Udders?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Professor Ballard softly.

Kendra leaned forward and cupped Professor Ballard's left breast. There was still some scabbing around the edge of the nipple.

"Hmm. Let's give these a rest then."

The blonde bent down and examined the slave's pussy, prodding it roughly with the fingers of her right hand. The professor winced, but held her position.

"Still raw, but at least the broken skin is starting to heal," she said clinically. "I got a little carried away last time.  I think I'm going to leave your cunt alone until the party. I want you to look pretty down there when you're on display. Let's do the ass, then. An ass always looks better when it's striped anyway."

"Yes, ma'am," said the professor.

"Bend over. Put your hands on the bed. Ass up."

Tongue did as she was told.

Kendra walked over to the dresser where she had laid out her various instruments of torture when she moved in to the professor's bedroom last Saturday night. She reached down and picked up a benign looking thin flexible shaft of blonde wood. It was about three feet long and couldn't have been more than a third of an inch in diameter, like a skinny curtain rod.  She swung the cane several times in front of her, like a fencer warming up before a match. The cane made a loud swooshing sound in the quiet room. It bent like a fishing rod as it described a short, vicious arc through the air.

The professor maintained her position bent over the bed as the blonde mistress approached her from behind. Out of the corner of her eye, the slave caught a glimpse of the cane. She shuddered.

Kendra reached down casually and prodded the plug in the slave's ass, then gave it a gentle tug. The tight ring of muscle was loosening nicely. She had been wearing the medium plug to sleep for two straight nights. It was time to move up to the next level. 

Kendra re-seated the plug in her slave's ass, then stepped back and widened her stance. She bowed the thin length of wood between both palms and paused for a beat to savor the moment. She smiled. This would be the professor's first taste of the cane. Ouch.

"Count them out, Tongue."

The first stroke fell.  Professor Ballard screamed in the pre-dawn darkness when the first impact landed. 

It took only two strokes for the slave to realize that a caning was by far the most painful punishment she had yet endured. The cane was much worse than the crop or the flogger. It was even worse than the thin, braided whip her mistress used to sting her clit. The cane was agony. Each stroke was like discovering pain anew.

She almost lost control of her bladder by the tenth stroke. On the fourteenth stroke, she felt the plug starting to slip from her ass as her anus twitched spasmodically from the pain. She grunted through her tears and clenched her sphincter fiercely, trying desperately to maintain her hold. 

If the plug fell out, strokes would be added.  Many strokes. 

She held on for forty strokes. Barely. By the end, as usual, Professor Ballard was hoarse and crying, but this time she had counted every stroke. 

She was learning.

When the beating was over the slave held her position as she had been trained. Her shoulders were shaking as she sobbed silently. Kendra put down the cane, then bent and hugged the older woman's flanks. She soothed the slave's burning bottom with soft kisses. 

"There, there, it's over. Such a good girl," she cooed.

The white globes of Professor Ballard's ass were criss-crossed with dozens of thick, purple welts. 

Kendra waited a few minutes for the slave to recover her senses.

Then she patted Professor Ballard's rump lightly and reached down and pulled the plug unceremoniously from the slave's ass. There was an audible plop. The professor groaned as the large head cleared her sphincter.

The time for sisterly bonding was over.

"Alright, cunt, stop your mewling. Clean this," said Kendra brusquely, pushing the plug in to the slave's mouth.

Professor Ballard immediately stopped sobbing and opened her mouth to accept the large rubber plug. She was used to this daily indignity.  She recalled how she had balked the first time Kendra tried to shove a used butt plug in to her mouth. 

That particular misstep had initiated a rapid, extremely unpleasant cascade of events.  That was how her pussy got raw.  She had no problem sucking the plug clean now.  No problem at all.  As Professor Ballard cleaned her plug, the pretty blonde mistress reached down and inserted two fingers in to her slave's sodden pussy from behind. She expertly fucked the older woman to a brief, but intense orgasm. The mistress smiled as she watched the slave's dilated anus pucker involuntarily as her orgasm took her.

After a moment, Kendra reached over and removed the plug from the slave's mouth. She held it up and examined it closely by the light of the bedside lamp. It was clean. 

The slave was learning.

She dried the plug on Professor Ballard's hair, then placed it neatly on the nightstand.  She grabbed the slave by the collar and brought her roughly to her knees, then sat on the bed.

Professor Ballard looked up at her mistress.

"We're going to bump you up to the large plug today. You'll be wearing it to class," said the pretty blonde.

"Yes, ma'am," said Professor Ballard softly. It wouldn't be the first time she had gone to campus thus adorned.

Kendra spread her legs wide.

"But first I want you to do me again. A good caning always gets me hot."

The professor crawled forward and bent to her task. She kept one eye on the clock as she licked.

It was almost time for school.



Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 06



AUTHOR'S NOTE: My apologies for the delay. I was stuck for quite some time, but now I think I have things straightened out. Expect more installments more quickly.

*****

Kendra sat on the edge of the bed, basking in the glow of her second orgasm of the morning, courtesy of Professor Ballard.

The slave remained on her knees between the student's legs. She continued to nuzzle Kendra's pussy eagerly after she finished cleaning her with her tongue. After a few minutes, the blond looked at the bedside clock, then pushed the slave's face away gently.

"Go make me breakfast, Tongue. The usual," said the blond-haired mistress as she swung herself back in to bed. 

This was Kendra's fourth day of living with the professor and acting as her temporary mistress. She was enjoying herself immensely. 

"Yes, ma'am," said the middle-aged slave, absently wiping away a smear of moisture from her chin with the back of her left hand. Kendra was always a bit of a squirter.

The slave rose up off her knees and trotted, naked and collared, in to the kitchen. In a few minutes, she returned with whole wheat toast, coffee and orange juice on a breakfast tray. Kendra always took breakfast in bed.

Kendra sat up in bed as Professor Ballard positioned the tray over her legs. Then the slave knelt next to the bed with her head bowed and her hands behind her back as her mistress ate, watching one of the morning news shows. 

Kendra had not allowed the slave to eat a full breakfast all week. She thought she could lose a pound or two. Presently, she held up a piece of crust to the middle-aged woman.

"Thank you, ma'am," said the slave taking the morsel in her mouth and chewing slowly.

"Welcome, Tongue. Now, go take care of your ablutions, then bring me the large plug."

"Yes, ma'am," replied the slave as she stood.

Professor Ballard walked quickly to the master bathroom. She closed the door behind her, then sat on the toilet and relieved herself. When she was done, she stood and filled the enema bag at the faucet, then inserted the nozzle in her anus. She held the bag up as it drained in to her. 

She was still getting used to this daily ritual. Her owner expected her to keep all of her holes clean and available for use at all times.

When the bag was empty, she removed the nozzle and held in the fluid for exactly two minutes as she had been trained. She concentrated on clenching her sphincter tightly. She found it especially difficult to retain the contents of the enema bag after having had her ass plugged all night. 

At last, the time was up. She leaned forward and pushed to expel the liquid. This resulted in several rude noises. The slave winced at the sounds she made, as she did each morning. She was well aware that her mistress could hear her from the bedroom, even over the television. This deepened her humiliation and increased her arousal.

When she was emptied out, she cleaned up then stepped in to the shower. As usual, she shaved her pussy and taint first, then turned her attention to her asshole. 

She was getting better, but it was still an awkward process drawing the razor along the rim of her anus. She took her time and did a good job. She knew this area would be inspected closely by Kendra when she got out of the shower.

When she was done shaving, she quickly lathered herself up, then washed her hair. Five minutes later, she was out of the shower. She partially towel-dried her long auburn hair, then finished the process with the blow-dryer, brushing it out the way Kendra liked it.

Twenty minutes after entering the bathroom, Professor Ballard opened the door and stepped back in to the bedroom. She went to the bureau and picked up the large black butt plug, then walked over to the right side of the bed and stood in inspection position, with her legs spread wide and her hands laced behind her head.

Kendra ignored the slave for several minutes as she continued to sip her coffee and watch TV. Finally, she put down the cup and indicated that she was finished. Professor Ballard quickly picked up the tray and set it on the floor. She was careful not to drop the butt plug as she did so. Then she resumed her position.

Kendra swung her legs out of bed and stretched, arching her back and reaching up with her arms. She remained unselfconsciously naked as she stood and began to circle her slave slowly. Professor Ballard stood perfectly still and looked straight ahead.

"All clean and smooth, Tongue?" she asked 

"Yes, ma'am," said the slave meekly.

Kendra paused behind the slave, then squatted and reached up, spreading her ass cheeks with both hands. She examined the rosebud closely. After a moment, she blew softly.

"Wink for me, Tongue."

The professor dutifully clenched and unclenched her asshole several times.

"Such a good girl. Nice and clean. You look good enough to eat."

With that, Kendra leaned in and gave the anus several long, slow licks, then inserted her tongue. She waggled it back and forth a few times, then pulled out and sat back on her haunches, releasing her grip on the globes of the slave's ass.

"Getting looser. Definitely ready for the large plug today," said the mistress as she stood. 

She picked up a bottle of lube from the nightstand.

"Hand it over, Tongue."

Professor Ballard handed her the plug.

"Spread and bend over," said the pretty blond as she drizzled lube on to the bulbous head.

The slave reached back with both hands and spread her cheeks as she bent at the waist. She was getting used to the ignominious process of getting her ass plugged. She had been filled every morning for the last four days. Now, it was just another part of her morning routine.

Professor Ballard grunted as her mistress pressed the cold tip of the lubricated plug against her anus. The ring of crinkled flesh gradually widened as the plug was advanced slowly. Kendra smiled as she saw the muscular sphincter first open, then stretch tighter and tighter around the widening circumference of the plug.

The slave began to pant as she was stretched, taking deep, fast breaths in and out. It felt like she was giving birth to baby in reverse.

"Argh! Please, ma'am...I don't think I can take it! It's too big!" mewled Professor Ballard plaintively.

"Hush, Tongue. It's almost in."

Finally, there was a pop as the widest part of the plug cleared the sphincter. The worst was over. Kendra pushed gently for a few more seconds until the wide base of the plug settled against the slave's anus.

"How does it feel, Tongue?" 

The slave straightened and took a few halting steps.

"Like someone has their fist up my ass, ma'am," said the slave morosely.

"Don't go giving me any ideas," said the blond mistress with a grin.

Professor Ballard turned to face Kendra.

"How long do I have to leave it in today, ma'am?" she asked glumly.

She had been wearing a plug for progressively longer periods of time each day.

"I haven't decided yet," answered her mistress breezily. "I'll let you know."

Kendra pointed to the floor in front of the closet.

"Kneel and wait until I get out of the shower, then I'll dress you."

"Yes, ma'am," said the slave, settling down on to the hardwood floor.

Kendra took fifteen minutes to shower and do her hair, then she was back. She walked up to the kneeling professor and patted her on the head absently as she looked in to the closet. 

After a moment, she extracted a little black dress, the kind usually worn at cocktail parties.

Professor Ballard looked up and groaned inwardly.

The dress was suitable for a work environment, but just barely. It was the kind of outfit that would raise a lot of eyebrows in the office, but fall just short of triggering a formal rebuke from her superiors. 

You could maybe get away with it if you were a twenty-something secretary in a high-tech start-up company. It was way beyond the pale for a forty-seven year-old professor on a college campus. People would notice.

"I think this will do nicely today," said her mistress mildly. "Why not slut it up a bit, right?"

She handed the dress to the slave, then reached down and picked up a pair of four inch black stiletto pumps.

"Perfect," she said, handing the shoes to the professor with a flourish.

Professor Ballard knew better than to argue. She was aware that Kendra was choosing progressively more revealing outfits for her to wear each day. She wondered where it would stop. Would she start to dress her like a prostitute? The blond had mentioned that they needed to go clothes-shopping together.

The slave didn't even consider asking if she could wear panties. They were never permitted unless she was having her period.

Professor Ballard put on the dress and shoes and examined herself in the full-length mirror. She looked good, she thought clinically, if she were going out to a high-end restaurant for dinner. On campus, in broad daylight, she would look like a bimbo.  

She felt her face flush as she thought of the smirks she would elicit from both her male and female students, not to mention her fellow faculty.

Kendra dressed quickly. Jeans and a light cotton blouse for her. Comfort clothes.

"Off we go," said the blond smiling as she hooked her left arm around Professor Ballard's right elbow. "Another day, another dollar, right, teach?"

They walked arm and arm out the door in to the driveway. When they reached the car, Kendra got in the passenger seat while the professor opened the driver's side door. 

"Don't forget. Lift up your dress. I want you bare-ass on the leather," Kendra ordered curtly.

"Yes, ma'am," said the slave softly.

The professor hiked up her skirt in the back, then put the car in gear. The leather felt cool on her cheeks.

As she drove, Professor Ballard thought about her upcoming day. Four classes today, she thought gloomily. And a faculty meeting. The first class would be the toughest, she thought. Comparative literature.

Her daughter was in that class.

At the thought of her youngest child, Professor Ballard felt the familiar, bitter pang of deeply-felt and long-abiding guilt. 

After her divorce seven years ago, her daughter had taken sides with her father. She told her mother to her face she thought it was just plain selfish of her to break up the family just so she could "go find herself" like some kind of half-assed hippy. 

The girl had no concept of the pain and drudgery of being trapped in a loveless marriage. She just knew her daddy wasn't going to live with them anymore.

Her daughter had been just twelve years old when the marriage dissolved. This is always a tough age for girls, but the divorce had magnified the usual problems of adolescence. She started doing poorly in school and hanging out with the wrong kind of crowd. There were frequent calls from teachers about her tardiness and truancy.

As she entered her teens, her daughter began to drift farther away. By the time she was in high school, they barely spoke. When her son went off to college, things deteriorated further. Now they were alone. They were like strangers living in the same house.

At sixteen, her daughter made a big fuss about her last name. Her mom had recently reverted back to her maiden name of Ballard and had asked innocently if her daughter would like to take that name as well.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" the girl had spat. "I don't want anything to do with you. Why would I take your fucking name?"

Professor Ballard had recoiled from the venom of her words. That was the first time she had ever heard her daughter drop the F-bomb, but it was certainly not the last.

After that argument, what was left of their tenuous relationship began to unravel with alarming rapidity. 

Her daughter stayed out all night on a regular basis. When her mom asked where she had been, the girl swore at her and told her to mind her own business. She began to smoke in her room. 

When her daughter came home with a tattoo on her lower back, colloquially referred to as a "tramp stamp," the professor put her foot down.

"What...is...that?" she had asked icily, pointing around the edge of her daughter's right hip to the design on her back.

"It's a tattoo, what the fuck do you think it is?" replied her daughter, smiling and looking her mother directly in the eyes.

"I did not give you permission to get a tattoo," said the professor primly.

"I don't recall asking," smirked the daughter.

"You have to be eighteen years old to get a tattoo in this state, unless you have written permission from a parent. You are only sixteen. I did not give you permission. How did you ever convince someone to do it?" asked the professor tersely, barely containing her fury.

Her daughter continued to stare in to her mother's eyes. Her smile widened, then transformed into a lascivious grin.

"Believe me, Mom, you don't want to know," she said slowly, then laughed at the shocked expression on her mother's face.

After that, it was over. 

Professor Ballard told her daughter she could not live under her roof unless she followed her rules. The girl responded by telling her mother to fuck off and began packing her things. She moved in with her father that same night and never came back, not even on the weekends.

Now her daughter was a nineteen year-old sophomore at her university. It was clear that she still wanted nothing to do with her mother. She had only agreed to attend the school where she taught if Professor Ballard promised not to tell anyone...ANYONE...that she was her daughter. At first, the professor had thought that this condition was imposed because the girl didn't want to be treated differently by the other students.

Then she realized it was because her daughter hated her guts.

Then why does she take my classes? 

It was the oddest thing. This was her daughter's fourth semester at the school and she had already taken two of Professor Ballard's courses and was midway through a third. Why would you voluntarily enroll in a class taught by someone you despised? 

The professor tried to turn her mind away from the obvious answer, but it was no use.

Because she likes to watch me squirm, she thought sullenly.

Her daughter was a brilliant girl with a strong personality and a chip on her shoulder. She was the kind of student who liked to challenge her professors, and not in a nice way. She was petulant and petty. Professor Ballard had personally been on the losing end of over a dozen rancorous and quite public verbal exchanges with her daughter in her own classroom over the past year and a half. 

It's the only time we really talk, she thought ruefully. The professor smiled humorlessly to herself and gripped the steering wheel more tightly as she recalled their many bouts.

Her daughter always sat in the front row and watched her mother like a hawk. If the professor made one, little misstep or botched a reference, the girl would pounce. The sad part was that her daughter was always right. 

But why did she have to be so mean about it? 

Her daughter always smiled triumphantly when she was able to get her mother to blush or lose her train of thought during class. She made a sport of humiliating her in public.

The car hit a pot hole and Professor Ballard was jolted out of her reverie. 

Professor Ballard took a quick glance down at her legs as she drove. She winced. The black dress came up only to mid-thigh. She would have to be extremely careful when sitting or crossing her legs today. She didn't want to give anyone the Sharon Stone treatment. Stairs were going to be a major issue.

She thought about facing her first class of the day in her ridiculous outfit.

Oh, God, what is my daughter going to think? Will she say something? Would she dare?

The slave was momentarily startled when she felt the butt plug start to vibrate in her ass. She looked over at Kendra. The blond mistress smiled back at her from the passenger seat, holding the remote control in her right hand.

The professor's eyes widened. 

"Please, ma'am, tell me you're not going to turn it on during class," she asked plaintively.

"I don't know. It's pretty quiet on the low setting. Do you think people would hear?"

"Oh, God, please ma'am, I'm begging you."

"Relax. Don't be such a worrywart. Keep things interesting today and I'll leave it off, but if I get bored..."

Professor Ballard felt the speed and intensity of the vibrations suddenly increase dramatically. A faint buzzing sound could now be heard, even above the noise of the car's engine.

"What are we talking about today?" asked the pretty blond matter-of-factly as she looked out the passenger window. She made no move to decrease the settings of the plug lodged in the professor's ass.

"Moby...Dick...," gasped the professor. 

The vibrations were having their usual effect on her. Despite her anxiety, she began to clench her ass cheeks rhythmically around the plug and grind herself against the seat. 

"Oh, great. Good luck with that," said the blond mistress dismissively.

The plug continued to do its magic. Professor Ballard felt her pussy begin to throb. In another minute, she realized she was leaking on to the seat.

I'm such a whore, she thought.

The plug was kept on the highest setting for the rest of the ride. The slave continued to squirm and asked for permission to come three times in ten minutes. Permission was denied.

"Don't be silly, Tongue. You'll get us in an accident. Control yourself, you slut," laughed her mistress.

Finally, as they were getting out of the car, the professor felt the device shut off. The ring of muscle gripping the plug continued to tingle, even after the vibrations ceased.

Kendra walked around the back of the car and met the professor at the open driver's side door.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Tongue?"

The professor was reaching in to the back seat to collect her brief case. She paused in mid-reach and looked down at the driver seat.

There it was, a shiny slick of moisture, the tell-tale mark of her almost constant state of arousal.

"Oh, yes, ma'am, sorry."

She took a quick look around the parking lot, then quickly got down on her knees and dutifully licked the seat clean.

"That's a good cunt," said Kendra indulgently. "See, you are a fast learner, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am," said the slave softly as she stood and extracted her brief case from the back seat. She took another quick look around the parking lot. Nobody had seen.

They walked slowly down the path toward class. The professor concentrated on trying to walk as normally as possible on stiletto heels with a large plug up her ass. It wasn't easy. She noticed several people staring at her skimpy outfit. 

After a few minutes, Kendra spoke.

"I'll tell you what, Tongue, you've been a good girl today, so I'm going to make you an offer."

She stopped walking and turned to the slave.

"If you can make Melville interesting for me, I'll let you take the plug out after class and I won't buzz you a single time," said the blond mistress, brandishing the plug's remote control.

The slave perked up. 

One class? That's all? She could have the plug out in less than an hour from now.

"Oh really, ma'am? Thank you so much. I won't disappoint you. I promise you," the slave practically gushed.

"No problem, Tongue. But remember, if you start to wander, all bets are off," she said waving the remote.

The plug jumped in the slave's ass for a few seconds, then fell silent.

At last they arrived at the lecture hall. Kendra and the professor walked in together.

And there was her daughter.

She was in her usual seat in the front row. She looked up at her mother, but instead of giving her the usual imperious smirk, she stared up at her, open mouthed. She looked back and forth between Kendra and the professor, her mind clearly trying to process what she was seeing.




Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 06



Kendra noticed the odd girl looking at them. Professor Ballard seemed to stiffen under her gaze. She recognized the student as the one who liked to ask awkward, sometimes challenging question during class. To her, she came off as a bit of a psycho. It was almost as if she had an axe to grind. She wondered what history the two had together.

Kendra returned the girl's stare for a long beat, then turned away dismissively.

"Nice talking to you, Professor," she said loudly, then strolled past the staring girl to take her seat in one of the middle rows. She knew she was still well within the functional range of the remote control. She smiled and settled in for the show.

At the front of the room, her daughter finally stopped staring and looked back down at her desk. Professor Ballard looked away awkwardly and opened her brief case. She was conscious of the cool air on her exposed pussy and the fullness in her ass as she turned her back on the class to arrange her things on the desk.

"Late night, Professor?" asked her daughter loudly to her back.

The professor froze for a few seconds, then turned slowly and looked down at the girl with what she hoped was a withering stare.

"Excuse me?" she asked with all the authority she could muster, which wasn't much. Authority is a bit hard to pull off when your ass is plugged and you're not wearing underpants. 

The professor looked around guiltily and noticed that several students had stopped what they were doing and were watching the exchange unfold. 

Her mouth went dry. 

Her daughter continued her attack.

"I mean, that's a cocktail dress, right? I was thinking maybe you had a hot date last night and never made it back home to change," she said chuckling, then turned her head to stare directly at Kendra.

There was a mild ripple of uncomfortable laughter.

Emboldened, her daughter pressed on.

"Don't get me wrong, Professor, you can pull it off, but do you think it's appropriate for class? Or are we going to have cocktails today?"

Professor Ballard was stunned. Her daughter had never been this bold before. For a few seconds, she stood speechless, gaping down at the girl in front of her.

Then she felt a jolt as the plug jumped in her ass. It vibrated for only for a second or two, but it was enough to goose her back in to reality. 

She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, then smiled down at her daughter serenely.

"Thanks for asking, young lady, but no I did not go out last night."

She walked up to where her daughter sat and bent to look her in the face, placing both hands on the sides of her desk.

"I do have an engagement tonight right after work, though and I won't have time to go home and change. I'm sorry if my outfit offends your delicate sensibilities. I'll try not to show too much skin if it makes you uncomfortable," she said with a wink.

The class erupted in laughter. 

Her daughter turned beet red and looked away.

Score one for momma, thought Professor Ballard fiercely. Inside, she was soaring.

Professor Ballard straightened and turned her attention to the class. She took a deep breath.

"Moby Dick has been called the greatest American novel of all time," she said in a booming voice. 

She paused and scanned the room to make sure she had their attention. 

"If you ask me, that's bullshit," she said with a smile. "And here's why..."

Thus began a lively discussion of the pros and cons of Melville's epic masterpiece. Professor Ballard talked about all the common themes and their interpretations. Was it really a revenge tragedy? Was it about man vs. Nature? Fate vs. free will? She tried to spice it up to keep it interesting. Was Ahab gay or just insane?

The professor was hitting all the right marks. She forgot all about the plug in her ass and her spoiled brat daughter in the front row. She thought she was doing great. 

After about twenty minutes, she stole a glance at Kendra and her breath caught in her throat.

The pretty blond was staring down at her desk. She was clearly doodling in her notebook.

Oh, no.

Professor Ballard looked away from her mistress and tried to regain her momentum, but it didn't work.

A minute later, the slave felt a jolt up her ass.

It was the first of many.

Things went rapidly downhill from there. The second half of the lecture was a disaster. Professor Ballard became distracted. She began to repeat herself. Then she became confused about the characters' motivations and began to contradict her earlier statements.

Her daughter pounced. This time, she won handily. The girl's arguments were insightful and original. Professor Ballard's responses were stale and off the mark. By the end, Professor Ballard was reduced to muttering inane aphorisms and asking if her daughter would "agree to disagree," so she could move on with the lecture. 

It was the single most embarrassing episode in her twenty-year teaching career.

Even as the professor flushed and wiped away flop-sweat from her brow, she felt a trickle of arousal running down her left inner thigh as the plug buzzed on.

For the last ten minutes of class, the plug vibrated continuously in the slave's ass. Professor Ballard was grateful to Kendra that she kept it on the lowest setting, a small consolation, but one she appreciated very much. She didn't think any of the students could hear it. 

She bit her tongue on several occasions to stop herself from coming without permission.

When class was finally, mercifully over, the students shuffled out listlessly. Her daughter didn't even spare the professor a glance as she sauntered out with a grim smile on her face. She was obviously savoring her victory.

At last Professor Ballard was alone in the room with Kendra.

The blond mistress continued to doodle, studiously ignoring the frazzled professor. 

After a few minutes, she finally put down her pen and looked up. She wasn't smiling. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor next to her desk.

Professor Ballard walked slowly up to her mistress and stood at the side of her desk, facing the pretty student. The plug in her ass continued to vibrate.

"Spread your legs," said Kendra mildly.

The professor looked warily over her shoulder at the partially open door of the classroom. There was a steady flow of traffic in the hallway as students made their way from one class to the next.

Slowly, the professor widened her stance, spreading her legs as instructed.

Kendra reached up under her dress and inserted two fingers in to her sopping pussy.

"God, you're soaked," said the mistress in disgust.

"I...can't help it, ma'am," croaked the middle-aged slave. "It's the vibrations."

"Bullshit. It's the humiliation. You didn't come, did you whore?"

"No, ma'am. I promise. I would never do that."

The blond withdrew pulled her hand away and stood. She presented her fingers to the slave's mouth for cleaning. Professor Ballard stole another quick glance at the door, then opened her mouth and began to lick the proffered digits clean.

"You were doing well there for a while," said her mistress amiably as the slave continued to lick. 

"You had me going with the homo-erotic angle, but then you just kind of ran out of gas."

The slave was now sucking the blond's index finger loudly. After a few seconds, she spit it out and engulfed the middle finger as she looked in to Kendra's eyes.

"And that girl really tore you apart at the end. I've never seen anything like it. What's her beef with you, anyway?"

Professor Ballard stopped sucking and looked away.

"I don't know, ma'am. She just doesn't like me, I guess," she said lamely.

Kendra stared hard at the slave for a long moment, then let it go.

"Well, obviously the plug stays in," said the mistress as she picked up her book bag and got ready to leave. She reached in to an outside pocked and pulled out the remote control.

Finally, thought Professor Ballard as she eyed the small plastic remote. She thought she would be able to tolerate the plug. It was the vibrations that were driving her crazy.

Kendra held up the remote and hit a button twice.

The professor felt the vibrations double in intensity, then triple. A faint, but definitely audible buzz could now be heard in the room.

Oh, no.

"When is your next class, cunt?"

"About...an...hour," gasped the slave. She was already thrusting her pelvis back and forth rhythmically.

The blond smiled sweetly.

"Maybe the batteries will run down by then," she said evenly as she put away the remote. "Either way, the plug stays in until you get home tonight."

The slave was panting now.

"Please, ma'am, can I come?" pleaded the professor.

Kendra laughed out loud.

"Of course not, you stupid cow," she said and walked out the door.



Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 07



Creating Quite a Buzz: A Temporary Trap

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Welcome to my world, where all women are lesbians, all lesbians are squirters and absolutely everyone is in to heavy BDSM. This is the continuing saga of Kathleen Ballard, a mild mannered, middle-aged English professor who has suddenly decided to surrender to her deepest, darkest carnal lesbian desires. Her rapid descent into slavery has been marked by extreme humiliation, degradation and abuse, all of it quite consensual and deeply satisfying to all parties involved. Today, the story takes a decidedly darker turn. BEWARE! This chapter contains explicit elements of coercion and non-consensual shenanigans. If this is not your cup of tea, please do NOT read on. For everyone else, let the depravity begin!

*********

Professor Kathleen Ballard stood alone in the empty classroom. She could feel the cool air on her bare pussy beneath her short cocktail dress. The vibrating plug embedded in her ass buzzed on incessantly. In the sudden silence, the noise seemed impossibly loud. 

She closed her eyes and took a moment to savor the physical sensation of the vibrations rolling from her anus through her entire perineum. She could feel the wetness leaking down her inner thighs and berated herself for being such a slut. 

"What's happening to me?" she whispered to herself. 

A week ago she had been a well-respected middle-aged professor who occasionally and very cautiously exercised her newfound passion for young pussy. She was always discrete and quite circumspect with her rare dalliances. 

Now she was a slave-in-training owned by a beautiful twenty-one year-old mistress who was a senior at her own university. 

She reflected on the things she had done over the past week. She couldn't quite believe it. She had spent the last few days being whipped, cropped, spanked and violated by a twenty year-old college girl who had moved in to her own home. The professor had calluses on her knees from the hours she had endured between the legs of the pretty blond junior as she was trained meticulously in the fine art of pussy and ass-eating. 

This was her first day back at work. 

Ballard had just finished giving an entire lecture with a vibrating butt plug in her ass. It had not gone well. 

For a moment, she let herself be carried along by the current of pleasure emanating from her posterior. Unconsciously, she began to rock her pelvis slowly back and forth. She smiled to herself in the stillness, oblivious to the students passing by in the hall only steps away. 

She was so close. 

With a start, she stood up straight and closed her legs tightly. She was not permitted to come. Her instructions had been explicit: the plug stays in all day and no orgasms were to be allowed. She grunted in frustration, then pulled herself back from the brink. She was obedient now. 

She had been whipped. 

The professor looked at her watch. She had about an hour until her next class. Her plan was to hustle back to her office and lock the door. With any luck, the battery in the plug would wear down and die before her next lecture began. 

She walked awkwardly over to the lectern, feeling the large anal plug shift painfully before re-seating itself. She gathered up her papers quickly, then headed for the door. As her hand closed around the doorknob, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the small rectangular window. 

She barely recognized the slut staring back at her. 

That morning, she had been ordered to wear her skimpiest cocktail dress to class. She was not permitted to wear anything underneath, except the plug, of course. The short shift of a dress barely covered the surface of her pussy and ass. It was so low-cut that her nipples would exposed if she leaned even slightly forward. All through class, she had had to constantly reach down and adjust herself to avoid the inevitable nip-slip. 

Her long auburn locks had been blown out, bimbo-style, into an elaborate corona that framed her overly made-up face. She wore far too much eyeliner for a woman of her age, as well as absurd, overly large artificial eye lashes. 

The finishing touch were her four-inch stiletto heels. Professor Ballard was well aware that her overall appearance made her look more like aging stripper than a senior professor of English. 

It was going to be a long day. 

She practically ran across the quadrangle to Guilford Hall, the building housing the English department. The plug jittered and bobbed beneath her dress as she moved. Thankfully, she came across no familiar students or faculty along the way, thereby avoiding any perilous stop-and-chats. 

She pulled open the thick wooden door quickly and stepped inside, unconsciously pulling down her skimpy dress as low as possible. She took a deep breath and began walking rapidly down the hall with her head lowered. 

She was painfully conscious of her ridiculously high heels clicking loudly on the marble tiles. Thankfully, she did not have to go up any stairs. Her office was midway down the hall on the first floor. 

Her secretary looked up from her small alcove as she heard Ballard approach. The professor saw the bookish thirty-something woman do a double-take when she saw her outfit. 

"Morning, Professor," she chirped. "Pippa's here. She's in with Professor Swanson. Do you want me to let them know you're here?"

Fuck. 

Professor Ballard stopped in her tracks. She tried to not physically wince at the mention of her daughter's name. Pippa had just finished eviscerating her in class a few minutes ago. What was she doing here now?

Ballard took a steadying breath, then realized in panic that the secretary was staring at her with a quizzical look. As she watched in horror, the younger woman cocked her head to one side. It was obvious she could hear the buzzing of the vibrating plug in her ass and was trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. 

"No, that's okay, Debbie. I'll stop by and say hello," Ballard answered louder than necessary to cover the noise, then resumed her double-time march down the hall. 

Or not, she thought. 

Ballard had no intention of letting her bratty daughter take another swipe at her today. And she certainly was not going to go near Professor Daphne Swanson in her current state of dress with a large vibrating plug embedded in her ass. 

Fucking Daphne Swanson. 

Ballard cursed her ex-husband for the millionth time for having the nerve to marry one of her co-workers. And did it have to be the office bimbo?

Not that he was to blame. 

Daphne Swanson had been grooming herself her entire adult life to become the prototypical trophy wife. She certainly looked the part. At thirty-two years old, with her close-cropped platinum blond hair, perfect cheek bones and crystalline blue eyes, she could have been a model instead of a junior professor of English. Her full lips covered straight, white teeth,with just the hint of an over-bite. The absolute perfection of her large, firm breasts was matched only by the sculpted symmetry of her heart-shaped ass. She had a thin wasp-like waist and perfectly proportioned, muscular legs, well-toned by daily Pilates and yoga. 

She made Professor Ballard want to vomit every time she saw her. 

Even before the divorce was final, Daphne had begun circling her ex-husband Richard like a vulture with over-sized tits. She knew a good opportunity when she saw it. He was a well-respected physician who was good-looking and fit and a permanent fixture in local high-society. His children were grown and almost out of the house and he certainly had no desire to have any more kids. 

In short, he was a trophy wife's wet dream. 

He was also very rich. 

Fucking gold-digging bitch, thought Ballard as she unlocked her office door and quickly stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind her. 

She stood with her back against the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Her mind wandered back almost three years to the time when her marriage had ended. 

After the divorce, Richard had been vulnerable and lonely. It hadn't taken Daphne long to pounce. The bitch had even had the nerve to ask Ballard for permission to "date her ex."

"I mean, I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything," Daphne had pouted as she stood preening herself in Ballard's office, "but, this is a small town, Kathleen. Not that many prospects, you know. And gosh he is so dreamy."

Ballard had almost vomited in her own mouth. Had the woman really just used "gosh" and "dreamy" in the same sentence? She was supposed to be an English professor for God's sake, although everybody knew she sucked her way to her tenure track. 

Of course, Ballard had wanted to jump out of chair and scratch the bitch's eyes out, but what could she say? After all, she was the one who had asked for the divorce. 

"Sure Daphne," she said morosely, after a brief pause. "He's a great guy. We're still good friends."

Daphne had smiled down beatifically at her older colleague. 

"I am so glad you feel that way, Kathleen," she had giggled, "because I kind of started seeing him last week."

Once she got her hooks in, the outcome was inevitable. 

Six months later, Daphne and Richard were married. So, now Professor Daphne Swanson, the official English department slut and office bimbo, was living in Kathleen Ballard's old house and sleeping in her old bed.

Fucking cunt. 

The nuptials had taken place over two years ago, but Daphne still never missed an opportunity throw it in Ballard's face. 

"Richard is so generous," she had beamed at Ballard just last week, holding her hand up to display a new diamond eternity band that was easily two carats. 

"What's the occasion?" Ballard had asked indifferently. 

"Nothing. He just appreciates what I do for him," she had replied coquettishly. "You can be sure I thanked him good and proper last night. Christ, I can barely walk this morning. Tell me, Kathleen, how did you do it for fifteen years? He's so huge."

Then she actually batted her eye lashes. 

Ballard did vomit in her mouth that time, but only a little. She was able to swallow it back down quickly. 

Dizzy Daphne didn't seem to notice. 

"How nice for you, darling," Ballard had replied breezily, then walked away as the younger woman giggled derisively at her back. 

Fucking bimbo cunt. 

At least Daphne had had the decency to keep her maiden name for official university business. Ballard speculated that this was because she couldn't remember how to spell the new one. 

Kathleen was plucked out of her reverie by the sound of voices speaking loudly in the hall. She pushed herself away from the door and walked in to the center of the room. 

She had to lay low. 

Ballard walked over to the window at the far side of the room and looked out at the courtyard. In the enclosed space of the office, the sound of the vibrating plug filled the room like a swarm of angry bees. She looked at her watch. She had about fifty minutes to kill before she would have to leave for class. 

"Come on, you bastard," she murmured to tiny battery in the plug. "Die, already."

Idly, she regarded the plants hanging in the the window. One looked particularly close to death. She was up on her tiptoes inspecting the damage with her back to the room when she heard a soft knock, followed by the unmistakable sound of her office door swinging open behind her. 

She froze. 

"Ooh, it looks like someone's been a naughty girl," cooed Daphne as she bounded in to the room in typical floozy fashion. 

Ballard's heart rolled over in her chest as she turned to face her nemesis. She had a white-hot moment of sheer panic. Had Daphne seen the plug while she was up on her tiptoes? Her hands reached unconsciously for the hem of her skirt. 

"Pippa told me how you showed up for class today, but I couldn't believe it, so I had to come see for myself. What's going on, Kathleen? Don't tell me you finally got a date after all these years," she laughed. 

Professor Ballard relaxed fractionally. It was obvious Daphne was referring to her ridiculously skimpy dress. She had not seen the plug. 

"What? Oh, no. I have a function to attend after work," said Ballard. She tried to sound casual, but realized as soon as she spoke that she sounded defensive and irritated. 

Daphne was immediately put on guard. 

She stopped walking and stared openly at her older colleague for a long moment. Kathleen looked back with what she fervently hoped was a neutral expression. 

Daphne herself was dressed like a prostitute, as usual. She had a on an extremely low-cut peasant blouse which displayed at least three quarters of the expansive surface area of both breasts. Her mini skirt was at least four inches too short for any workplace other than a strip club or brothel and she was wearing five-inch heels. 

After a few beats too long, Daphne's eyes slid away from Kathleen and began to look casually around the room. 

Ballard was mortified to hear the plug buzzing louder than ever. She coughed loudly several times, then clenched her ass cheeks together as firmly as possible. The buzzing sound diminished, but did not disappear completely. 

Daphne cocked her head to one side. 

"What's that noise?" asked Daphne. 

Ballard swallowed. 

"What noise? I don't hear anything," she said lamely. 

Ballard walked over toward her desk, hoping to sit down in her chair and dampen the vibrations, but Daphne stepped forward to cut her off. 

"Hold it, let me check you out, sugar," she drawled. Daphne was not from the South, but she often affected a fake southern accent. It was just one of her many annoying qualities. 

"This is quite a departure for you, Kathleen. You usually dress like such a frump."

The younger woman eyed her older colleague appraisingly, then circled her slowly. Ballard had to use all of her willpower to keep herself from looking back over her shoulder when Daphne passed behind her. 

The plug buzzed on, louder than ever. 

"Not bad. You can still pull it off, Kathleen," said Daphne in a clearly condescending tone. "Barely, but you're still in the game. It's refreshing to see a woman your age who still cares about her looks."

Ballard had a momentary flash of anger, then quickly smothered it out. She didn't want to get into a fight. She needed to get this woman out of her office. 

"Thanks, Daphne," she said evenly, plastering a smile on her face. She cleared her throat. "But, I have some work I need to do before class, so if you don't mind..."

Ballard walked over to the door and held it open. 

"Of course, Kathleen. Sorry to take up your valuable time," said Daphne stiffly, taking a step toward the door. 

Then she stopped and snapped her fingers theatrically. 

"Oh, how silly of me, I totally forgot the reason I came in here, Kathleen. Pippa and I are going out for lunch and I was wondering if you'd like to join us."

She turned once again to stare directly at Ballard, a thin smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "In fact, she's in my office now, right next door. Why don't I call her over?"

"No!" Ballard blurted too quickly. 

"Excuse me?" Daphne asked. She made a big show of looking wide-eyed and absolutely astonished. "What's gotten into you, Kathleen? You mean you don't want to see your own daughter?"

Ballard recovered quickly. 

"Not at all," she said breathlessly. "It's just that I don't want to hold you two up, that's all. Like I said, I have work to do. Plus, I saw Pippa already today in class."

"Oh, yes, that's right," said Daphne, crossing her arms. "She told me you weren't really on your best game today, that you seemed...how did she put it...a little distracted."

Daphne paused, then brought her right hand up to her chin. She stared directly at Ballard for a long second. 

"And now I think I know why," said the pretty blond archly. 

"You do?" asked Ballard, trying not to show her alarm. 

Daphne leaned in and crinkled her nose. She looked at Ballard oddly, then seemed to sniff the air. 

"It's obvious." Said Daphne. "You're all dolled up. You're skittish as hell. You look like you haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks. It all makes sense, you silly goose. As unlikely as it may seem, you must have a new love interest, Kathleen."

Ballard released a long, slow and steady sigh of relief. She was going to get out of this. She should have known Daphne was too stupid and self-absorbed to catch on to her predicament. 

Daphne smiled at Ballard expectantly. 

"Who's the lucky gal?" asked the younger woman brightly. 

Ballard ignored the barb and struggled to maintain a tone of casual civility. She had to get this woman out of the room. Now. 

"I'm sorry, Daphne. I don't know what you're talking about. Now if you'll excuse me..."

Once again Ballard waved her hand at the door. 

Daphne didn't move. 

"But there's just one thing I don't understand, Kathleen," said Daphne benignly. 

"What's that, Daphne?" Ballard asked mildly, opening the door wider. 

The younger blond looked Ballard squarely in the eye. 

"Why is your ass buzzing?"

Ballard froze. For a few seconds, she said nothing, then realized she had no choice but to try to brazen it out. 

"I..I don't know what you mean," she said feebly. 

"Cut the shit, Kathleen. Of course I can hear it. I'm not fucking deaf. And I can smell you from here. You must swampy as hell down there," she said waving her right hand in front of her nose. 

Ballard felt flop-sweat pop out on her forehead. Her heart fluttered like a bird in her chest. There was a roaring sound in her ears. For a long, desperate moment, she was paralyzed by the primitive physiology of pure panic. 

Daphne was grinning openly now, like a shark. She took a step forward. 

"I'm going to ask you one more time, Kathleen, and if you don't answer me properly, I'm going to call Pippa in here right now, so we can all figure it out together. As a family."

Ballard put a hand to her throat. Her mouth was dry. For several seconds she couldn't speak. 

"Don't," she finally croaked. "Please." She hated the plaintive tone in her voice. 

Daphne's eyes narrowed and her smile broadened. She was playing with the older woman now. 

"Now tell me. What's that noise, Kathleen?" 

For a full minute Ballard stood in silence under Daphne's carnivorous gaze. Her mind was reeling, frantically going over her options. She quickly realized that she had none. She was caught. It was that simple. Her shoulders slumped and she looked down at the floor. 

"I'm waiting," said Daphne sternly, tapping her foot. 

Ballard licked her lips guiltily and continued to stare down at the floor, as if looking for a hole that could swallow her up. 

Finally, she found her voice. 

"It's a...sex toy, I guess you would call it," she whispered hoarsely. 

"A sex toy? Oh, my. Like a vibrator?" asked Daphne, her eyes suddenly bright with merriment.

"Sort of," said Ballard. Her voice was barely audible. 

"And you were wearing it in class?" asked the young blond. 

"Yes, Daphne," said Ballard miserably. She was totally defeated now. 

"Where is it?"

Ballard looked up at Daphne quizzically. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

"Where did you put it, you silly goose? I assume you inserted it somewhere. I want to know where." Daphne's smile was now overtly predatory. 

Ballard looked back down at the floor. 

"Um..it's in my...bottom," she said dejectedly. 

"You're bottom? You mean you have a vibrator shoved up your ass?" asked Daphne, her face a mask of feigned incredulity. 

"Um, I think it's technically called a butt plug," said Ballard, then barked out a tortured laugh. She smiled wanly at Daphne, hoping to inject a little levity into the situation. 

Daphne was having none of it. 





Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 07



"Oh, thank you for clarifying that Kathleen," said Daphne humorlessly. "But this is not a laughing matter, Professor. You were basically masturbating in class, in front of your students."

Ballard bit back a response. That's not how she would characterize the situation, but she was in no position to argue. Anything she said would only antagonize her younger colleague. She stared down at the floor for a few more seconds, then looked up into Daphne's face. 

That was when she began to feel the first trickle of real fear. 

Daphne was looking at her strangely. It was a cold, calculating look. After a few long moments, she nodded her head, almost imperceptibly. The young blond seemed to have come to a decision. 

"Oh, my. What am I going to do with you now, Kathleen?" asked Daphne playfully as she continued to regard the older professor. Her lips curled into a cruel smile. From her vulpine expression, it was obvious to Ballard that the young blond had already decided exactly what she was going to do. 

Ballard said nothing. She had a bad sense of foreboding. It was clear that Daphne was not just going to laugh this off as a joke between us girls. 

The vibrating plug buzzed on accusingly, an audible testament to her own stupidity. 

Daphne reached up and put her right hand on Ballard's left shoulder. Her eyes were alight with malevolent intent. She gently guided the older woman backward to the center of the room, well out of reach of the office door. 

"Don't move a fucking muscle," said Daphne harshly, "or I'll call in the cavalry right now. Understood? We need to have word, me and you."

Ballard nodded meekly. 

Daphne stepped over to the open door. 

"Pippa!" she shouted. 

Ballard had another momentary spasm of panic. Was she going to bring in her daughter right now? Let her see her like this?

Daphne saw the terror in Ballard's eyes and held out a calming hand, before resuming her conversation through the open door. 

"Pippa, I'm going to have a chat with your mom. We have some business to discuss. Please wait in my office, sweetie. This won't take long."

Ballard heard her daughter's muffled reply. 

Daphne closed the door and looked at her watch. "I think I have time for a little fun," she said, rubbing her hands together. The pretty blond walked over to an over-stuffed chair in the corner of the room and sat down, crossing her legs primly. 

"Show me," she said curtly. 

The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. Ballard took one last stab at salvaging her dignity. 

"Daphne, please. I made a mistake, but it's no big deal, right? You don't have to do this."

"Oh yes I do, Kathleen Ballard. I do indeed. I've taken your shit for years. Now it's time for you to squirm for me."

"Please. Don't make me do this," Kathleen pleaded. 

"I love to hear you beg Kathleen. Please do it again," said Daphne implacably. She was smiling again, like a wolf who found herself suddenly alone with the flock. 

Ballard tried one last gambit. She stood up straight and looked Daphne in the eye. 

"I won't do it. You're being...inappropriate, Daphne and I'm not going to put up with this one second longer."

Daphne picked up her smart phone. 

"Fine. I'll just text Pippa and have her come over." She began punching in the number. "I'll tell her to bring in our secretary as well, just so we'll have plenty of witnesses at your inquest with the board of regents. Let's find out who's being inappropriate, Kathleen."

Ballard began to look around the room, wild-eyed, as if literally seeking some physical means of escape. A time portal? A manhole cover in the floor? Should she throw herself out the window? 

But there was no escape. 

Finally, Ballard took a deep breath and her shoulders slumped yet again. Daphne continued to punch numbers into her phone. 

"Wait. Please, Daphne. I'll do it," said Ballard meekly. 

She was totally defeated now. 

"Come," said Daphne curtly, snapping her fingers.

The older professor began to walk slowly over to the chair where Daphne sat. It was only a few paces away, but the journey seemed to take forever. She felt unmoored and slightly wobbly, as if the floor had suddenly been tilted beneath her feet. The plug buzzed on relentlessly. 

Finally, she was there. Ballard looked down at Daphne and blinked several times, as if waking from a dream. Daphne smiled up at her serenely. 

"Um, how do you want me to..." began the older woman haltingly. 

"Just turn around, bend over and lift your dress, Kathleen," said Daphne tersely, twirling her right index finger impatiently. "Hurry, up. I don't have all day, you silly goose."

Ballard swallowed hard, then turned and bent over as instructed. She reached down with both hands and lifted the hem of her short dress above her waist. 

Daphne leaned over and inspected the proffered ass. 

"No panties either, Kathleen? You are a naughty girl, aren't you?"

Ballard just stood there in silence. She had never felt so exposed in her life. 

Daphne reached out and pulled gently on the plug. Ballard flinched, but did not move away. 

"My, my, that's a big one, you dirty girl. Pull your cheeks apart, please. I want to have a closer look," said Daphne clinically.

Ballard hesitated for only a second before realizing she had no choice but to comply. 

The senior professor reached back and pulled apart her ass cheeks with both hands. 

Her face burned. 

There was a long pause as Daphne surveyed the plug carefully, then Ballard felt another tug as the young blond began to pull backwards on the large black protuberance. 

Ballard yelped. 

"Hush, hold still, Kathleen, " said Daphne, not unkindly. "I want to see what size it is."

Daphne continued to pull. She smiled thinly as the plug began to dilate the rim of the older woman's anus as it was slowly withdrawn. The muscle of the sphincter flattened and paled as it was stretched circumferentially, around the large bulbous head. 

Ballard grunted, but stayed still. After a few more seconds, Daphne released the plug and it was sucked quickly back in to Ballard's well-trained ass. 

"That's at least a four inch plug," said Daphne, obviously impressed. "How long did it take you to get that monster in?"

"About five minutes, I guess," said Ballard softly. 

"Rule of thumb with butt plugs, Kathleen, is it takes the same amount of time to take them out as it does to put them in. With plugs this size, you have to be extremely careful or you're liable to tear yourself."

Ballard said nothing, although she did find it vaguely disturbing that Daphne was apparently some kind of expert on the mechanics of butt-pluggery. 

There was a pause of several seconds, then Daphne smacked Ballard's ass cheeks with both hands simultaneously. The twin reports sounded as loud as pistol shots in the stillness of the room. 

Ballard started, but made no move to retreat or jump away. Daphne smiled knowingly to herself. A threshold had just been crossed. Emboldened, the pretty blond reached out and ran her hands lightly over the the surface of the older woman's bare ass. 

Ballard was suddenly conscious of the many welts and whip marks that criss-crossed the flesh of both pale globes. She had been caned for the first time that very morning. The damage to her flesh was extensive. It wasn't something you would miss. 

Daphne ran her fingers slowly over one particularly angry welt. 

"Ouch. It looks like someone has been a very bad girl," she said in mock sympathy. "You poor dear."

Daphne continued to run her hands along the smooth contours of Ballard's ass, pinching and squeezing the flesh appraisingly. 

There was a long pause, then Daphne spoke. 

"Tell me, Kathleen. I know this might seem like an odd question coming from a fellow English professor, but are you someone's slave?" she asked casually. 

Ballard said nothing. She thought about how much her life had changed over the past few days. A week ago, the question would have seemed absurd, even comical. Now, it was just a formality. 

She thought briefly of denying it, but what would be the point? The answer was as plain as the marks on her ass.

Another smack. 

"I asked you a question, Professor," said Daphne tersely. 

Ballard paused for a few more seconds, then whispered, "yes." 

Daphne chuckled, kneading the older woman's ass cheeks proprietarily for a few more seconds before adding, "You mark well, Kathleen. You're mistress is to be congratulated."

Professor Ballard winced, but didn't move. 

"How did you know?" Ballard croaked after a few seconds. She couldn't help herself. 

"Well the butt plug and the whip marks were my first, clues Einstein," chortled Daphne. 

"No...I mean how did you know I have a mistress instead of a...master or something?"

Daphne smacked Ballard's ass again with both hands. 

"Oh, come on Kathleen. Everybody knows you're a dyke now."

Ballard said nothing. The plug sang on. 

"Who is she, Kathleen? You're mistress, I mean," asked Daphne conversationally. 

Ballard stayed silent, bracing herself for another pair of smacks on her exposed ass. 

Daphne delivered. This time the impact was much harder. The young blond was gratified to see twin handprints starting to etch themselves in to the soft, pale skin. 

"Come on, Kathleen. Don't be shy. I'm just curious."

"I'd rather not say, Daphne, if you don't mind," said Ballard primly. 

To her amazement, Daphne didn't press her too much. 

"I respect that, Kathleen, but at least tell me if she's a student."

Ballard paused, then answered softly. "Yes, she is." She bowed her head and looked at the floor. 

There was another volley of smacks, but these were lighter and more playful. 

"That's delicious," Daphne laughed. "The high and mighty Professor Kathleen Ballard, the Ice Queen of the English department, plugged by one of her own students."

As Daphne's laughter rang in her ears, Professor Ballard glumly began to re-assess her current situation. She stared down at the floor, as if the solution to her predicament could be found in the grain of the hardwood. 

This was not going at all as she had planned. It was rapidly becoming evident that it had been a mistake to let Daphne in to her office. She had thought the younger woman would take one look at the plug in her ass, then recoil in disgust and run out of the room giggling like a school girl. That obviously was not going to happen. 

She had not expected to be spanked, interrogated and systematically humiliated. 

Ballard was beginning to think that there was more to Daphne Swanson than met the eye. Her younger colleague was not acting like a dizzy, mindless bimbo. In fact, her air of calm authority in the face of Kathleen's predicament was downright disquieting. 

Thinking back, Ballard realized Daphne hadn't seemed shocked or even surprised to find her older colleague naked beneath her dress with a large vibrating butt plug in her ass. Nor had she been scandalized by Ballard's confession of slavery or even the fact that her mistress was one of her own students. 

She wasn't acting like a bimbo at all. In fact, she was acting like something else entirely. 

Faint alarm bells began to go off inside professor Ballard's head. She was beginning to think that, in her current condition, it might be extremely dangerous to be alone in a room with Daphne Swanson. 

Daphne stood up slowly from the chair. Professor Ballard watched the pretty blond walk over to to the center of the room. 

Professor Ballard didn't move. She just stood and stared. 

"Don't get me wrong, Kathleen, I think it's great that your mistress sent you to work plugged. A slave should be plugged as often as possible. It helps remind her of her place." 

Daphne turned and faced Ballard, crossing her arms lightly. 

"I keep all my pussy slaves plugged during use," she said with a smile. 

There it was. 

"Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly," said Daphne in an odd sing-song voice. "Tell me, Kathleen, would you like to be my pussy slave?

"You're what?" asked the stunned professor. 

"My pussy slave. I have several."

"But...you're married," said Ballard. "To Richard," she added lamely. 

"So what? I love My life with Richard, but I have certain appetites that no husband can satisfy."

"You mean you like women?" asked Ballard, abashed. 

"Me?" Daphne laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not gay. I just like the feel of a well-trained feminine tongue, so I use my pussy slaves, but I never reciprocate. Been doing it since high school, actually. I just seem to have a talent for turning ordinary women into my pets. I find that straight women make the best pussy slaves, Kathleen, but I'll make an exception in your case."

Daphne snapped her fingers. 

"Strip, Kathleen."

Ballard didn't move. 

"Daphne, please, you're being ridiculous, I'm not going to be your slave."

"Of course you are, you silly goose. At least for today. It will amuse me to see my husband's bitchy ex-wife on her knees between my legs."

Ballard took a step back. 

"No. It's not going to happen," said Ballard stiffly. 

"Take off that silly dress, Kathleen. I keep all my pussy slaves naked when they service me."

"Your fucking crazy," shouted Ballard. 

"You really made a mistake letting me in your office today, Kathleen. You should have just locked the door. It really is quite a cozy little locked-room drama we have going on here. As long as that door stays shut, you are safe, but if the outside world comes crashing in, you are well and truly fucked. That buzzing in your ass means I own you. There's no way you could possibly remove the plug before I can get Pippa in here. All I have to do is shout her name and it's over."

Ballard stood in silence for several seconds. Her mind was racing. She needed to buy some time, to stall. If she could just hold out until the battery died, she would be free. She decided to try to keep Daphne talking. 

"You said you had other slaves. How many? Who are they?" she asked with false curiosity. 

"I keep three or four at a time. Students, administrators, even fellow faculty. In fact, I have a slave in our own English department right now. Would you like me to call her? I bet you'd be very surprised to find out who it is."

Ballard crossed her arms. 

"No thanks. I don't want to know," she said sullenly. 

"Suit yourself," said Daphne dismissively. "Now quit stalling, Kathleen and kindly remove your dress." 

"Daphne, please," whispered Ballard. "Don't do this."

The young blond picked up her phone. 

"Do we really need to go through this charade again, Kathleen? Shall I call Pippa over now? How do you think she'd react to your plug and your whip marks?"

Ballard stared straight ahead and pondered her options. The plug droned on, louder than ever. Daphne was right. With her daughter in such close proximity, for as long as the battery lasted in the plug, she was cornered. The trap was temporary, but inescapable. She had no choice, but to obey. 

Her last ember of resistance winked out. The older woman sighed and hung her head. 

"What are you going to do with me?" Ballard asked docilely. 

"I should think it would be obvious, Kathleen. First I'm going to inspect you as my potential property and then you are going to service my pussy with that smart mouth of yours."

Daphne walked up to Ballard and folded her arms. Again, the younger blond snapped her fingers. 

"Now strip!" she barked. 

Ballard didn't move for a few seconds, but then her right hand reached up and she began to unbutton the top of her dress. Then, she shrugged out of the thin shoulder straps and let the skimpy garment fall to the floor. She was naked underneath. She stepped out of the dress, picked it up off the floor, and folded it neatly before placing it on the nearby chair. 

Ballard moved back to the center of the room and stood there, waiting for instructions. She tried to cover her breasts with her left arm and put her right hand over her vulva. 

"Don't you dare hide yourself from me," hissed Daphne. "I assume you are familiar with the inspection position. Please assume it now."

Ballard immediately laced her hands behind her neck and stood up straight, spreading her legs greater than shoulder width apart. She thrust out her breasts and tilted her pelvis forward slightly to present her shaved pussy for inspection. She directed her gaze downward, her eyes on the floor. 

Daphne circled Ballard slowly. She took her time, pausing occasionally to poke and prod or reach out to touch one of the many red welts that cross-crossed the surface of practically her entire body. Daphne noted that Ballard's breasts had received particularly brutal attention recently. Her back, ass, thighs and vulva were also cross-hatched with angry red marks. 

"When were you last whipped, Kathleen?"

"This morning."

Daphne pulled her right arm back in a wide arc, then swatted Ballard on the right ass cheek as hard as she could. The older woman yelped, but did not move. 

"Use the proper form, slut," said Daphne evenly. 

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry ma'am. I was whipped this morning, ma'am. Caned actually. On my ass." 

"Was there a reason? Were you being punished for anything in particular?" asked Daphne in a detached clinical tone. 

"No, ma'am. It's just that I only recently began my training. My mistress has instructed that I be whipped daily. She says she wants to break me in properly."

"Quite right. She must be a very capable mistress for someone so young. Maybe I'll meet her one day," said Daphne. 

Ballard swallowed hard, but said nothing. 

Daphne turned to face Ballard, then stepped up to cup both breasts in her hands, weighing them appraisingly. 

"You're udders are quite firm for a sow your age," said Daphne brusquely. 

"Thank you, ma'am," said Ballard softly. 

"Nice, big nipples too," said Daphne. She reached out grabbed both nubbins of flesh, twisting them cruelly back and forth for several seconds. 

Ballard moaned, but didn't move. 

"But I would have them pierced and stretched," she said releasing the nipples after one final tug. "These too," said Daphne reaching down with her right hand and pinching Ballard's outer pussy lips tightly between her thumb and forefinger.

Ballard grunted repeatedly as Daphne increased the pressure on her most sensitive area, twisting the lips now as she pinched and pulled. 

Daphne put her mouth to Ballard's right ear as she continued to increase the force of her intimate grip on the hapless slave. 

"Slave pussy should always be pierced," she whispered fiercely, before abruptly letting go. 

Daphne again turned to face Ballard, then reached down and casually inserted the first two fingers of her right hand into the older woman's cunt. 

"You're sopping wet, Kathleen," she said accusingly. "It looks like someone likes being treated like a slut."

Ballard looked down and away. Her face reddened. 

"It's the plug, she whispered hoarsely. 

"Sure it is Kathleen. Keep telling yourself that," said Daphne dismissively. 

Daphne sawed her fingers in and out of professor Ballard's cunt for a few seconds. An audible sloshing sound could clearly be heard in the room, even over the loud buzzing sound of the plug. 

Abruptly, Daphne withdrew her fingers and held them up to Ballard's mouth. "Clean off your goo, you disgusting whore."

Ballard opened her mouth and sucked the digits clean, then licked between the fingers, sucking up the excess fluid. Daphne removed her fingers roughly from Ballard's mouth, casually wiping them dry on the older professors face. 

Daphne walked up to the front of Ballard's desk, then turned back to face her older colleague. She reached under her skirt with both hands and slowly and deliberately rolled her panties down her legs. The young blond stepped out of the skimpy thong and tossed it on the desk. 




Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 07



Ballard remained standing in inspection position. 

Daphne walked slowly around to the back of the desk. She pulled out the heavy wooden desk chair and stood for a moment with her left hand resting on the back. 

"My pussy needs your attention now, Kathleen. Please get down on your knees and crawl under your desk. That's where I'll have you."

Daphne looked at her watch. 

"I'll give you fifteen minutes to get me off. If you do a good job, I'll leave and we can forget that this entire incident ever even happened," soothed Daphne. 

Ballard said nothing. 

Daphne continued. "On the other hand, if you fail to satisfy me or displease me in any way, I'll call Pippa in here and tell her everything, including the fact that you're whoring yourself out as a slave to one of your own students. The whip marks add a nice touch of authenticity."

Ballard stood for a few more seconds without moving. The butt plug buzzed on. She knew she was out of options. 

"Now, Professor," barked Daphne. "On your knees, then crawl to me, slut."

Very slowly, Ballard sunk to her knees, then began to crawl. Daphne stood and held the chair away from the desk to give the older woman room. When she reached the footwell, Ballard spun around on her knees, then backed herself in. 

Daphne sat down in the large wooden chair and spread her legs. 

Ballard looked straight ahead at the neatly shaven pussy before her. She could see the inner lips already glistening and swollen with arousal. The clit looked overly large and meaty. She realized she could smell the younger woman's excitement. Daphne was obviously enjoying herself. 

Daphne reached down and cupped Ballard's chin with the palm of her right hand. She tilted her face upward until their eyes met. 

"I'm going to make you my little pussy pet, Kathleen. It's going to be so convenient having you right next door during the day."

Ballard pulled her face away, then shook her head, looking up defiantly. 

"Wrong, Daphne. I was stupid and I got caught, but it's not going to happen again. I'll get you off because I have no choice, but this changes nothing between us. I still hate you."

Daphne smiled and leaned back in the chair, then scooted her ass forward, aligning her vulva with the face of the woman kneeling before her. 

"Oh, Kathleen, poor, poor girl. Don't you realize that makes it all the sweeter for me?" she said huskily. "Now beg for it, like a good pet."

Ballard stared at the pussy in her face for a few seconds, then shrugged inwardly. 

"Can I eat your pussy Daphne?" She asked tonelessly. 

Daphne slapped her face, hard. 

"You'll have to do better than that,slut. I'm not some silly schoolgirl."

Kathleen rubbed her stinging cheek, but made no move to rise. 

"Please let me eat your pussy, Daphne," she asked with more feeling. 

Another slap. Ballard felt hot tears in the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath, then looked Daphne in the eyes. 

"Please, please, please Mistress Daphne, let this worthless slave worship your beautiful pussy," she begged. 

Daphne smiled down at the older woman approvingly. 

"That's better, slut," she said curtly, then looked at her watch. "You have fifteen minutes." She leaned back in her chair, spreading her legs. "I'm going to enjoy this very much, Kathleen," she added with a wink. 

Ballard leaned forward and nuzzled Daphne's thighs apart with her face, then bent to her task. 

She began by kissing the slit reverently, pausing unconsciously to inhale the thick, musky scent, then drew her tongue up slowly from anus to clit. She nibbled the engorged nubbin of flesh for a minute or so, then moved down to the inner lips, tickling them lightly with the tip of her tongue to tease open the delicate, softening petals. 

After a few minutes, Daphne exhaled softly and reached down and patted Ballard's head lightly. Ballard looked up. 

"Not bad, Professor, but now I want to feel that fat tongue inside me. I have a surprise for you."

Ballard stiffened her tongue and probed the hot depths as ordered. She immediately noticed a dramatic increase in the thickness and flow of secretions. 

"Keep looking at me, slut," said Daphne intently. 

Ballard held Daphne's gaze as her mouth began to fill. The younger woman's pussy was ripening more quickly than she had expected. Ballard began to gulp to keep up. As the first swallow slid down her throat, she thought there was something oddly familiar, yet alien about the consistency and texture. 

"How do I taste, Kathleen? A little salty?" asked Daphne, an odd smile playing on the corners of her mouth. 

That was it, thought Ballard as she finally looked away. She swallowed several more deep draughts. There was indeed a unique salinity to the flavor which seemed different from the other girls Ballard had been with. 

Kathleen looked back up at Daphne, scrunching her eyebrows in puzzlement over the pussy buried in her face. 

Daphne beamed down at her. 

"Surprise! That's Richard! He came inside me this morning and now you get to suck it all out. Isn't it yummy?"

Ballard grunted heavily in to the meat of Daphne's pussy, her eyes widening in shock and revulsion. She straightened up on her knees, then backed away quickly, wiping her mouth with the back of her left hand. She sat back on her haunches, her head bowed beneath the desk, looking up at Daphne in disgust. 

Daphne gazed down serenely. 

"Tick tock, Kathleen. You have ten minutes left to make me come, but first you have to clean me out. I want to watch you eat it."

Sensing her reluctance, Daphne reached over and slowly picked up the phone. 

"Or should I call the girls in here right now? I'll say I found you cowering under your desk, naked, with a plug in your ass and whip marks all over your body. You must be having some kind of psychotic break. We really should call an ambulance."

Daphne smiled down at Daphne expectantly. 

Ballard wiped away a trickle of semen from her lower lip, then looked away. She took another quick inventory of her situation. This new indignity changed nothing. She was still trapped. There was no way out. 

Kathleen tried to maintain a look of defiance, even as she shifted on her knees to reposition herself between Daphne's thighs.

Daphne's smile never faltered. Her eyes were positively twinkling. 

"Here, let me help you," said the pretty blond, opening her legs wider. She reached down with both hands and delicately pulled her pussy lips apart. "I'll push it out for you."

Ballard regarded the gaping pussy before her. Even in the dim light, she could see several ropy tendrils of her ex-husband's semen leaking out of the opening and running in rivulets down the engorged inner lips. As she watched, Daphne grunted slightly and flexed her pelvis. The tide of cum noticeably increased and threatened to overspill the fleshy receptacle of Daphne's vagina. 

Daphne continued to smile down at her older colleague pleasantly.

"If you spill any, I'm going to whip your cunt, Kathleen," said the younger professor, matter-of-factly. "Now, eat it."

Ballard looked up with hatred in to Daphne's eyes, then leaned forward and got to work. 

When she felt the first large dollop of semen rolling down the wide slope of her tongue, Ballard began to slurp and suck loudly. She sputtered and choked a few times, but managed to get it all down. 

She leaned in and sucked out the ribbons of sticky cum, then extended her tongue and licked up and down the slit a dozen times in long languid strokes. As she worked, she curled the tip of her tongue, ladle-like, funneling the mixture of salty-sweetness directly into her mouth. She gulped down several spoonfuls. 

"How does it taste, Kathleen? Do you like eating my husband's cum?"

Ballard continued to lick and suck. She knew what was expected of her. 

"Yes, ma'am," said Ballard between swallows.

"Say it, Kathleen."

"I like eating Richard's cum out of your pussy, ma'am," said Ballard softly. "It's delicious."

"Good girl, Kathleen. You're going to make a wonderful pet."

Ballard cursed her ex-husband's virility as she licked and slurped and swallowed. The descending flood of semen seemed endless, but after about five minutes, the gooey tide finally began to ebb, then ceased entirely. After a while, the saltiness disappeared completely as the older professor finally finished consuming the remnants of her ex-husband's morning orgasm.

Professor Kathleen Anne Ballard took a few moments to mentally regroup: she was naked on her knees under her own desk in her own office in the middle of the work day and had just eaten her ex-husband's cum out of his young wife's freshly fucked pussy, while her own daughter waited patiently just steps away. 

How much lower could she go? 

Professor Ballard didn't want to find out. She just wanted to get this woman out of her office.

The older woman redoubled her efforts to make Daphne come. She leaned in and suckled the large, engorged clit, then flicked it rhythmically with the tip of her tongue for several minutes. She was rewarded by a groan from above as well as fresh gush of wetness released into her open mouth. 

Ballard swallowed greedily despite herself. This flavor was all female now, tangy and lush. As always when it came to eating pussy, it was the physical taste of the fruits of her labor that spurred her on. She began to steadily increase the tempo of her ministrations. She licked and sucked noisily, then ground her face wantonly into the slick vulva of the woman she despised most in the world. 

At last, Ballard began to feel Daphne buck against her mouth, slowly at first, then with more urgency. The professor breathed evenly through her nose and focused on the technical aspects of causing a vagina to reach orgasm: lick here, suck there, nibble this, tongue-thrust. Repeat. 

Daphne began to moan as she bucked. 

It was time for the endgame. 

Ballard stiffened her tongue, then used it to fuck Daphne Daphne's cunt as deep and fast and hard a she could. She was rewarded by yet another splash of arousal. Ballard reached up with her left index finger and began flicking Daphne's clit rhythmically without decreasing the tempo of her tongue's movements. 

Daphne began to grunt as the frequency and amplitude of her bucking increased. 

She was close now. 

Ballard sensed that a little drama would do the trick. She pressed her face directly into Daphne's dripping vulva and began to moan lasciviously, directly into the younger woman's cunt. She worked her face up and down, tongue extended deep into the slit, grinding the bridge of her nose directly against the engorged clit at the apex of each excursion. 

Daphne began rising off of the seat of the chair, bucking hard now against the prow of her colleagues face. Ballard ground her face up and down relentlessly. She increased the volume of her moans, multiplying the intensity of the vibrations being transmitted up through Daphne's cunt. She continued to flick the clit mercilessly with her finger.

"Oh fuck!" Daphne panted. "Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Her it comes. Drink it down. Don't you spill a fucking drop!"

Ballard opened her mouth wide and flattened her lips against Daphne's cunt. She could always tell when a woman was going to squirt in to her mouth. There was a subtle gathering of flesh, followed by a pause and a quiver. Then came the eruption. 

Daphne lifted her ass a half a foot off the chair, both hands gripping the leather padded armrests. She was panting now. 

"Ahhhh...yessss!"

She bucked twice more, then froze. 

The older woman was ready for the deluge when it came. She could feel the muscles of Daphne's pussy walls flexing rhythmically around her tongue, followed by a sustained, violent contraction. 

Then she exploded. 

Professor Ballard drank the first half cupful in one gulp, then took a quick breath and reattached her mouth to Daphne's vulva. She felt Daphne's hands on the back of her head as she bucked furiously with each spasm. The older woman's vision blurred as her face and eyes were spattered and splashed between swallows. 

Ballard gulped and swallowed and sputtered through about thirty seconds of convulsions, then the torrent slowed to a thin stream, then a trickle. 

Daphne continued to hold ballards face against her cunt. The younger woman grunted rhythmically for another minute, grinding herself into Ballard face. 

Finally Ballard felt the hands leave the back of her head. She pulled her face back and straightened on her knees. She looked up and regarded Daphne. 

The younger woman's head lolled back in the chair. Her legs remained open wide with her knees pulled back, exposing her glistening and distended pussy as well as her slick taint and anus, which winked obscenely. Ballard watched, transfixed, as the sphincter continued to spasm for another few seconds before gradually tightening and falling still.

Ballard was amazed at the amount of fluid the orgasm had produced. Daphne was awash in her own effluent, with a thick sheen of liquid covering her from belly to knees. There were widening puddles in the folds of her pussy. As she watched, ballard saw twin trickles leak down Daphne's taint and disappear into her anus. 

For a long time, nobody moved. 

Finally, Daphne spoke. 

"Not bad, Professor. Some room for improvement, but we'll work on that."

Ballard let the remark go. 

Daphne repositioned herself on the chair, spreading her legs widely and scooting her ass forward. 

"Now, clean me like a good little kitten, Kathleen. Everywhere. Start with my ass, please. I'm feeling a little sticky back there."

Ballard had expected this final humiliation. She leaned in and pulled apart Daphne's ass cheeks with both hands, then began to lave the still-quivering rosebud. After thrusting in and out of the anus several times, Ballard used the tip to of her tongue to meticulously rim out the ass crack, pausing to slurp up larger droplets and rivulets of moisture. When she reached the taint, she flattened her tongue along the broad surface and licked in broad, slow strokes. 

Finally, she reached the pussy itself. 

Ballard had a routine for cleaning pussy. She slurped and licked the surface and small creases first, then laved the slit deeply with her curled tongue to get the final dregs. Then she would finish up by licking the belly and inner thighs clean. 

She was just beginning the process on Daphne's pussy when she heard the unmistakable sound of her office door opening, followed by a familiar voice. 

"Daphne, what's going on. I thought I heard shouting. Where's mom? Why are you sitting at her desk?" asked Pippa. 

Ballard froze under the desk and stopped licking for a moment, only to start again when she felt a firm hand close on the back of her head. She made herself as small as possible and continued her task. 

The plug buzzed on, impossibly loud in the confines of the footwell. 

"Oh, hi Pippa. Yes, I'm afraid we had another argument and she stormed off. You know how she is. I was just sitting here, hoping she'd come back so we could talk things out. Tell me, Pippa, why is your mother always so difficult lately?"

"Duh, Daphne. Because she's a total bitch, that's all. Please tell me she's not coming to lunch," said Pippa. 

Daphne sighed and shifted in her chair, opening her legs wider to allow Ballard's tongue to gain deeper access. 

"No Pippa, she's eating elsewhere today," she said, patting Ballard's head lightly beneath the desk.

Pippa took two steps forward and spoke from the front of the desk. She was now only three feet from her hidden and kneeling mother. 

The young student paused and looked down at the desk. 

"What's that noise?" she asked. 

"What noise. I don't hear anything," said Daphne, with a mischievous smile. 

Ballard's heart froze in her chest. She stopped licking briefly, then resumed when she again felt a steadying hand close around the back of her head. 

"It's like a buzzing sound," said Pippa. 

"Who knows? Maybe it's the air conditioning," said Daphne waving her hand dismissively. "Anyway, Pippa, I need a few more minutes to gather myself. Why don't you go get the car? It's parked in my usual spot. The keys are in my purse in my office. I'll meet you out front in five minutes."

"Sure, Daphne," said Pippa. 

Ballard heard her daughter's retreating footsteps followed by the sound of the door opening and closing.

At that moment, the plug in Ballard's ass finally stopped vibrating. 

Ballard immediately stopped licking. She reached a hand up and patted Daphne's knee. 

"Let me out, Daphne. A deal's a deal," said Ballard irritably. Freed from the bondage of the plug's vibrations, she was anxious to get Daphne out of her office. 

The pretty blond did not stand up, but remained seated, keeping Ballard trapped beneath her desk. 

The younger woman reached down and patted her older colleague on head, like a faithful dog. 

"Not a bad start, Kathleen. You have real potential as a pussy slave, but you certainly need more training. Be in my office at nine tomorrow morning for your next session."

Ballard looked up into Daphne's eyes. 

"Not going to happen, you psycho bitch," snarled Ballard. 

"Don't be silly, Kathleen, schoolgirls are fun to play with, but I'm offering you a chance to experience a much more seasoned mistress."

Ballard's gaze never faltered. 

"Like I said, Daphne, this changes nothing between us," she said resolutely. 

Ballard was now trying to push herself out from under the desk, but found herself blocked by Daphne's legs and the heavy chair. 

Daphne paused to consider Ballard's words. 

"So, you will not serve me willingly?" asked Daphne. 

"Of course not, Daphne. I would never choose to serve you. I hate you," replied Ballard acerbically. 

"Hmmm," said Daphne. "I guess it will have to be unwillingly, then, Kathleen."

"What are you talking about?" asked Ballard incredulously. 

Daphne remained calm. "I'm afraid I've acquired a taste for that tongue of yours, Kathleen. I've marked you as mine today. You're going to be my permanent pet."

Ballard looked up into Daphne's eyes. She was beginning to think her younger colleague really was insane. 

"Are you not listening or are you just too dense, Daphne? The buzzing has stopped. As soon as you walk out that door, you'll have nothing to hold over me. It will be my word against yours. I'll deny everything."

Daphne looked down at Ballard and smiled. For a long moment, she said nothing, then the young professor spread her legs again. 

Ballard, trapped in the enclosure of the footwell, stared at the pussy just inches from her face. 

"You can deny anything you like, Kathleen, but you can't deny this."

Daphne reached down and ran the index finger of her right hand up and down her slit. Ballard continued to stare straight ahead, mesmerized. 

"You're addicted to it, Kathleen. If not my pussy, then it will be someone else's. You'll do anything to get it. You think you have it under control, but you don't. I've played with girls like you before, even broken in a few myself. You're obsessed. One of these days, you're going to do something stupid and it will all come crashing down."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Ballard petulantly. 

"It means karma's a bitch, Kathleen. You've fucked with me my entire career and you did your best to make my life with Richard a living hell, but now you're the one who's vulnerable."

"You're crazy," said Ballard shifting uncomfortably beneath the desk. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mark my words, Kathleen. Your appetites are going to get you in to trouble and I'm going to be there when it happens."

Ballard looked up in to Daphne's eyes with pure hatred. 

"Are you done, Daphne?" she said fiercely, "because I have to get to class soon and your babbling is seriously starting to bore me."




Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 07



Daphne pushed herself back in her chair, then stood up and walked slowly around to the other side of the desk. Ballard quickly crawled out from the footwell and turned to stand behind her desk. The two women regarded each other cooly across the broad wood surface of the desk. 

Ballard made no move to cover her nakedness. 

"Have fun with your clever college girls, Kathleen," said Daphne. "But if I see a chance to get over on you, I'm going to take it. And next time I am never going to let you go."

"Thanks for the warning, you fucking lunatic," replied Ballard evenly. "Now, please leave my office."

Daphne walked over to the door. She turned back to face Ballard, with one hand on the knob. 

"It's amazing how someone so smart can be so dumb, Kathleen. I saw you between my legs today. You're doomed already. You just don't know it yet."

And with that, the pretty blond executed a graceful pirouette, then opened the door and slipped out into the hall. 

As soon as the door closed behind her, Ballard bounded over and turned the bolt on the lock. She leaned back against the hard wooden surface and sighed deeply. She was safe now. After a moment, she checked her watch. She still had twenty minutes until class. 

Ballard stood, naked and thinking, in the sudden silence of the room. 

She thought about Daphne's warning. Maybe she really was getting in over her head, taking too many chances to satiate her new-found sapphic lust. After all, today's debacle showed how close her darker impulses had come to spilling over into her professional life. 

Now, in the cold light of reason, Ballard realized she could have gotten in to serious trouble if Daphne had decided to simply turn her in to the administration instead of using the situation to her own cruel advantage. 

She shivered. That had been too close. 

She thought about the upcoming sorority party. Her mistress had been teasing her all week with hints of what would be expected of her. Maybe it really was too dangerous for her to get involved in such debauchery. For God's sake, she was a tenured professor in English. She had so much to lose. 

Then she thought of the joy she took in serving her true mistress and she smiled to herself. She remembered the gratitude she had felt when she had been accepted as a novice slave. In the last few days Ballard had experienced more pure pleasure and sensual fulfillment than in all the frustrating years of her previous, dreary, vanilla life. 

She was different now. She was owned. There was no going back. 

Ballard reached back and adjusted the large plug in her ass. It was no longer buzzing, but remained firmly in place, a silent sentinel to her obedience. 

She had two more classes to teach before she could take it out.