2 comments/ 141183 views/ 4 favorites The Teacher: Lesson II By: Ariel797 He calls me "Angel," telling me that I am his own little piece of heaven. In class he is Dr. Edgars, but in his office, elsewhere, I call him Alex. I tried to call him Sir, but he laughed and stroked my jaw with his fingers, saying "no." Yesterday I was at his house, feeding him bits of food with my fingers, licking the corners of his mouth, and he had me to sit on his lap, facing him. I was wearing white lacy thigh hi hose and a gold necklace. I love the feel of touching my naked skin against his clothes, knowing he is dressed, I am not; knowing he is in control, and I have given my own control to him. I snuggled into his lap, my legs on either side of his, and Alex smiled, pulling his own legs apart. Sitting there, facing him, I pushed against his crotch, rubbing, until his eyes closed and he moaned. I kept licking at his mouth, kissing him, nibbling down his neck, until I felt my hands suddenly grasped and pulled behind my back, held there by one of his hands. I loved his strength. I waited. "Turn around," he said. I turned, my back to him, leaning against his chest, smelling coffee and musk and excitement. My hands held behind my back by his one hand, my legs once more spread on either side of his, open, waiting, wet. "Close your eyes," he whispered, and I felt his mouth on my neck, moving along my shoulder, and his other hand...ohh, running lightly up my ribs, up, between my breasts until I pushed back against his chest, my head going back over his shoulder, completely open and waiting for his touch. The hand moved along my breasts, touching, stroking...moving along my skin and then down until my legs jerked with wanting. Fingers touching inside my legs, pushing a little, stroking, finding my clit... My clit, pinched, pulled; the lips rubbed, then pushed gently together. I was waiting for more, more... "Look what I've bought for my little angel," he whispered, and my eyes opened. A clamp? In the shape of a large U, with bits of jewelry and bells? I turned my head, looking at him, frowning. He rubbed the thing on mouth, my nipples, then ordered me to keep my hands behind my back. He pulled up my clit and lips, sliding the U over the whole until all of it was pushed together and I could feel the beat beat beat of blood in my pussy. "Walk around," he said, that delighted smile that promised pleasure and pain. I walked, finding that the blood rushing and throbbing there was worse when I moved; that the jewelry and little chains and bells beat against my wet pussy when I moved, making me shiver and want to be taken there, then, fast and hard. It was relentless. And then - he ordered me to dress in my skirt and blouse. In the car, I would feel the metal on my skin, there, and try to push against it, seek some relief. It was keeping me on the edge of orgasm but not allowing it, and I was almost miserable with wanting it. I whimpered, and he grinned, patting my leg as he swung the car into the parking lot of a restaurant. I groaned. We ate, or rather, he ate and enjoyed, talking about how wonderful the food was, whispering comments about how wet I probably was. I ate little and moved my hand under the table once, trying to push against the clamp because I was feeling that prickly hot urge to fuck something, now. He laughed, drawing my hand out, kissing the fingers, and telling me to eat. In the car, I said "please, oh please take it off, please fuck me, please," and he smiled, reaching under my skirt and running his fingers along the trapped flesh, pushing a little so that it hurt and throbbed and twitched and my hips lifted up, wanting him in me now, please now. "not yet, little slut," he said. A long drive back, with Alex describing the lights, the trees, the scenery, and I didn't care. Everything was focused on my pussy and wanting and needing some hard fast sex. No foreplay, just take me. At his house, I was told to undress and wait, but the clamp remained. It was hurting now, and every movement meant the bells and little chains slapped against my lips, dangling bits of torment that bounced and tortured and tantalized. He returned, wearing a robe, and ordered me to kneel, my weight on my heels, my legs open. He looked at me, leaning down and pushing with his thumb against engorged lips and a clit that was on fire. He stood, opening his robe. Oh, he is so beautiful. I knelt, my legs open wide, the bells quivering against wetness, and I looked up at him. He gently took my hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes half-closed. My hands, gently stroking him at first, gently touching, but I was so hot and wanting that inside me so much, I became greedy, grasping his balls in my hands, stroking, squeezing them gently until he moaned, pushing his cock against my mouth. My tongue flicked on the head, licking at the slit, while my hands stroked under the balls, around, up, and down the cock, my mouth nibbling now on one side, then the other, of the cock. I leaned forward and he began to stroke my hair, pushing on my head, and I pulled him into my mouth, my hands going back to touch his butt, squeezing his cheeks gently, pulling him towards me, my tongue licking his cock as my mouth tightened on him, moving, sucking. He began to rock into me, hard, thick, and I was excited. I felt my clit burning from the clamp, could faintly hear the little bells moving and bouncing as he fucked my mouth, pushing himself into me more and more, until he froze, groaning, his hands twisting in my hair, and he came... I cleaned him, wiping him gently with a cloth, touching him with my fingers when I could, wanting him to be hard again, until he began to push into my hands with his cock, then knelt beside me on the floor. He took the cloth, wiping my mouth, smiling at me, touching my face, moving his hand down to the clamp, and gently easing it off. I jerked my head back and pushed up, because it hurt, but the pressure being gone felt so much hotter, so much more intense...he rubbed his palm over my clit, gently, slowly, until I was crying and pushing against his hand, saying "please, ohhh please please." His hand stopped moving, and I shut my eyes and waited, knowing the lesson of patience and of waiting for what he wanted. And ohhh, he wanted me, because he rolled on top of me, rubbing his cock against my sore clit, his mouth sucking on one nipple, then another, while I opened my legs wider for him. And he fucked me, took me hard, harder even than I knew I could want it, shoving himself into me, and it was what I needed and wanted and shook against him, my legs closing around him, drawing him into me more and more... I was lying on the floor, with him still inside me, holding him as he slept; I watched moonlight through the slats of the blinds and knew my second lesson was one of reward. And tomorrow, my next lesson will be one of trust, he says, and I think of it and tighten around him until he moans in his sleep, and I hold him and wait, feeling the soreness from the clamp and the heat of him inside me, and wait... The Teacher: Lesson One His voice droned on and on, Dr. Edgars and his last minute tutoring for a college chemistry test, but all I could think of was wanting him, sitting in his class, wondering how it would feel to touch him, have him take me. I leaned forward; I'd worn a sleeveless blouse, just for him, cut low. More discussion about the periodic chart. sigh I'd worn a skirt and thigh hi hose and heels, all for him to notice me. I moved back in my chair, pulling up the skirt a little. Surely he could see I was wearing no panties? I squirmed in the seat, aware of him, aware of the wetness and the feel of my skin, hot and rubbing against itself under my skirt. Squirming made it worse. I pressed my legs together. He wasn't going to notice the blouse or the skirt. He finished, closing the book, and looked sternly at me. Oh great. Now to hear how I should pay more attention in class - but how? how, when I loved to watch him move, watching him go to the board and write, see him walk up and down the aisles - when all I could think of was him? But instead I heard - "are you being naughty with me?" He was smiling, and glanced at my blouse. I could feel everything focusing on him - his voice, his eyes; feel myself getting wetter, feel my nipples rubbing on the bra. "yes," I whispered. The smile again - "and do you want to be naughty with me?" he asked. Again, "yes." I was in college; I was an adult. I knew what I wanted. I wanted him. And again he smiled, picking up the pointer that he used in class, a slender, long tool for showing chemical formulas on the board, but now - what? He motioned for me to stand, and I did, trembling, excited. "Unbutton your blouse for me," he said, still with that smile. He stood, going to the door and locking it while I undid my buttons. Before I could remove my blouse, he said "no." I stopped, waiting. He walked around me, and I felt more aware of noises, of hearing him breathe softly, of my heart beating. The noise in the hallways and voices outside were very faint; the low hum of an air conditioner was in the background; soft music from someone's radio in some office. He came back to the front, and gently used the pointer to push at the shoulders of my blouse, pushing the sleeves back...off, until the blouse was gathered at my wrists. He tapped the front hook on my bra. "Open this, then drop your hands." I opened the clasp of the bra, fingers shaking, and let the bra remain on, opened. I dropped my hands, waiting. He used the pointer to push open the bra a little, slowly - an agony of waiting and pleasure, feeling the tip of the pointer move over my skin, rubbing the bra over the nipple, now tapping gently on the nipple until I put my head back and closed my eyes, breathing faster. The pointer moved deeper, pushing the bra open until I felt cold air on my breasts, and I lifted my head and looked at him. His eyes were focused on my breasts, rubbing the pointer against them. The pointer dipped lower, traveling down my belly, stroking my waist, sinking into my navel, playing with it. He moved the pointer beneath my skirt, lifting it, then smiled again. Why had I never seen how sadistic a smile could be, and how exciting? "Off," he said, tapping the skirt, and I removed it. "And these," he added, flipping a sleeve of my blouse, touching the bra. I stripped until I wore only the hose and heels, standing quietly, quivering, waiting. He touched one thigh with the pointer - "open your legs," he ordered, and I did, thinking I would melt, or burst into orgasm at another touch. But I stood, waiting, and he walked around me again, touching my bottom with the pointer, stroking inside my leg with it, moving it up and down my belly, tapping against a nipple lightly. I wanted him to touch me so badly, so badly. He smiled again, and I felt my breath stop - I knew now this meant something else dangerous and pleasurable and good would happen. The pointer slowly, slowly moved up one leg, then dipped into my waist, and down the other leg, circling, moving up and down, closer and closer, oh yes please. I leaned my head back again, pushing out with my hips some, wanting that touch, until I felt it, the pointer moving over my clit, gently sliding on the lips, and I moaned, wanting to feel it slide inside me, wanting more. "What a naughty girl you are," he said, and I lifted my head again to stare at him, wondering what was next. That smile again, and now he was looking through a nylon bag, glancing at me. An order to place my hands behind my head as he returned, pointer tucked beneath his arm, something in his hands. He stroked my cheek with the back of his knuckles, and I could hear his breath, feel it on my skin, and feel myself tighten, wanting him to touch my clit again. With my arms up, my breasts were pushed out even more, my nipples so taut they almost hurt. The knuckles, again, stroking down my neck, along my collar bone...he placed a collar around my neck, snug, smelling of leather, with a D ring in the front. A chain dangled from the ring, and he allowed it to drop between my breasts, the end of the chain swinging back and forth between my legs, bouncing gently against my pussy. I tried pushing at it a little; some touch was better than none, even if it was torture to feel it so lightly grazing me. But he stopped me, pulling the chain up and draping it over one of his shoulders, then touching a finger to my mouth, running it lightly along my bottom lip, ordering me not to move, not to speak, and then - ordering me to suck at his finger. He took his wet finger and circled each nipple, slow, easy, as though he weren't aching to be touched. My eyes were half-closed, until he gently pinched my nipples, twisting them, looking at me with that delighted smile of his, and I wanted more, and moaned, forgetting to be silent. The smile, and then he showed me a clamp, opening it, allowing it to shut, letting my eyes follow as he stroked one breast with the clamp, then pulled the nipple and placed the clamp on it. Ohhhh some pain, very mild, but more was pleasure, and a low pulsing in my clit that seemed to grow louder and louder to me. The other nipple was captured by a clamp, and both were linked by a small chain, and then to the ring on my collar. Moving my head too much would tug at the clamps. The wicked man. A thick belt around my waist was next, pulled tightly, cinched until it was harder to breathe, but the feeling in my clit was one of pounding blood. He motioned for me to turn around, and I felt my arms gently grasped, gloves slipped on, laced, and my arms pulled back to my elbows, and I loved it. I was wet and miserable for his hand, for him inside me, for anything, but the tightness around my waist, the mild tug on my nipples, all made me focus more on my pussy, on wanting and needing, now. He pulled on my arm and went to the sofa and helped me to lie across his lap, pushing me so that my clit was braced against his thigh. My legs rested on the sofa, but he ordered me to open them wider. He took the chain of my collar in one hand and pulled my head back a little, so that my nipples were out more, the clamps tugging, my shoulders back, and with his other hand - the first smack on my bottom, and I cried out. "sshhhh," he whispered, and I bit my lip, determined not to cry out again, but it was so good, so very good. Another smack, and another, hard, and each time, it pushed my clit into his thigh, pumping me to near orgasm, yet no release. More smacks, harder, faster, then some that were slow; pauses when I would wait for his hand, then rapid spanking. Another pause, and he removed the clamps from my nipples, and I groaned. The pain of them coming off - and the pleasure of feeling in them, of rubbing my clit on his thigh, I was half-crazed. The clamps off, he began spanking me again, telling me that this time, he would only use his hand to spank my bottom. This time? Ohhhhh there would be more of this heaven? I grew wetter, pushing against his thigh more, arching my back and trying to rub against him. He stopped, chuckling, and his hand slid beneath me, up - would he touch me? Please, oh please. But I felt his thumb press up, under the vagina, pushing back and forth, and I moaned and opened my legs more, almost jerking the chain from his other hand, whimpering. And now he turned me over, gently, pulling my head back so that again, my nipples were up, pulled back more because of the laced gloves, and I could not see what he was doing. I felt a hand pulling my legs wider, saw another one reach for something. One of my legs fell to the floor, and I turned my head and watched as he pulled a table towards him with the toe of his boot, then I felt my leg being lifted, propped on the table, and his foot keeping it in place. My head was back, the collar chain was again snugly in his hand; my nipples so tight, my legs open so wide that had the door been unlocked, anyone coming in would have seen everything. And then I felt the pointer again, touching the clit, stroking the lips, rubbing inside the lips, and I pushed against it eagerly. The pointer pulled away, and he smiled at me and whispered "not yet." Suddenly he began to tap the pointer on the insides of my thighs, on the lips, back to the thighs. I began to move my hips up in the same rhythm, lifting to meet it as it began to tap harder and harder, now the lips, now lower, and then, on the clit. I bucked, moaning, pushing up, my eyes tearing, because it hurt a little, and felt even better, and the strokes went on and on until finally, I came. I was amazed, later, but then I didn't care, I just pushed back with my shoulders and up with my hips, my legs opened wide, offering all of that to him, and I shut my eyes and turned my head and bit at the chain, holding that delicious position while I shook and tightened and released...and felt him touch my clit with his finger, his hand on me, and came again, pushing hard against his hand. "What a good little slut you are for me," he said, and I felt hot again, wanting more, wanting to stay on his lap forever and have his hand stroking me, pinching my clit, playing with me. I was willing to stay forever in his office, naked, waiting for him, if I could only have more. I felt one finger go inside me, teasing, and I began moving on it, and he pulled away. He leaned over, brushing my lips softly with his, his hand cupping my pussy now, and whispered against my lips "not yet, sweet little slut. So many lessons for you. So much to teach you." And now I wait...for my next lesson. For waiting is part of the pain, and the pleasure, I am learning. The Teacher: Lesson Three Humiliation play. Alex was playing with me one night in bed, grabbing my wrists in one strong hand, rubbing his thumb on one of my wrists, his other hand moving along my belly, circling the clit until I squirmed, pushing my hips at his hand. "Nooo" he said with a grin. "I want to see you squirm. Beg me for it." Begging was hard at first for me, but he could play with me until I would hear myself pleading with him, begging him, and then I would be all hot liquid and wanting, desperate to do anything if he would only take me. He stopped playing with my clit for a moment. I had spoken aloud, and he looked at me. "Anything?" he asked. "You'd do anything?" The grin. Pleasant and chilling and exciting. I shivered, and the hand returned, soothing and stroking. A few days later, I was in his class. He never let me wear panties any more. I loved knowing that he was aware that I was sitting there with nothing on beneath my skirt. By the end of class, I would be desperate to find some way to get to his office, to be waiting for him, kneeling, my arms back and my long red hair brushing the ground behind me, my legs open, waiting for him. This day, I was more than ready for him. Two days of playing with me but never letting me cum. I was crazy with wanting him, with needing sex. No masturbation, he had said. No touching. I was wild for him. He had told me to go to his office as soon as class was over. The bell rang and I almost ran to his office, but I was careful. Nobody was around, and I slipped in, using his key, then knelt as usual, waiting for him. While I waited, I noticed his toy bag. I shifted on my knees, wanting to press my legs together, but he had said no touching, no playing with myself. I looked around, waiting. It was a pleasant office. The blinds were closed, but I knew that on the other side of his window were flowers, a view of the older part of the campus. A faint smell of coffee was in the room. Bookcases against one wall; his desk near the window, poles supporting parts of the old building. He liked the feel of being in an older building though, he said. It felt more like a college. I tensed, hearing footsteps and voices; the knob turning - Alex and someone with him! I jumped up, smoothing down my skirt. Did he forget I would be in here? Should I hide his toy bag? Too late - the door opened, and there he stood, someone behind him. Alex looked coldly at me. "Did you forget to do something?" he asked. I was confused. I glanced at the person behind him, then back at him. "I - you mean, like always?" He nodded, moving aside for the other person to enter - someone from the physics department, I thought - a teaching assistant? I thought I had seen him before. I heard the door being locked. Again, I was confused. Surely Alex didn't mean - to kneel? I moved to the floor, slowly, watching him. He nodded again, a brief smile this time, and I knelt, unsure, facing him, glancing at the silent teaching assistant, waiting. Alex sat in his chair, motioning for the other man to sit as well. "This is Doug." I nodded at Doug, then looked at Alex again, waiting, my heart beginning to speed up a little. Alex leaned back in his chair, propping an ankle on a knee, steepling his fingers and looking at me. "Continue," he said. Alex had taught me to obey him when he used that look, that voice. I moved my head back, feeling my hair swing behind my back, flicking against my arms as it swayed. I opened my legs, bracing myself on my heels, my hands back on the floor, and I arched my back, waiting, looking up at the ceiling. I wondered if my skirt was covering me... ...and felt something against my thigh, pushing at the skirt. I couldn't help myself; I lifted my head a little to look, and saw Alex pushing at my skirt with the toe of his shoe. "Pull it up," he said. I gulped, quivering. I sat up, not looking at him or Doug, feeling myself blush, as I began to roll the skirt upwards, up, until I could tuck it in at the waistband. I glanced at Alex through a bit of my hair that had fallen over my eyes. "Pull your hair back - " I did so - "and open your blouse. You know how I like it." I did know how he liked it. I opened the blouse, aware that my skirt was pulled up, my legs open, that I was fully open to both men as I tugged at my blouse, unbuttoning it to the waist. The bra unhooked in front; I opened it, pulled it apart, opened the blouse around my breasts, then leaned back again, arching my back, feeling cool air on my nipples and clit, feeling the beginnings of moistness... Silence in the room for several minutes. All I could hear was breathing - them, me; very faintly in the distance was the sound of people talking, leaving the building. All that time, I waited, leaning back, arching, my legs wide, my skirt up and my blouse open. It was embarrassing, and hot. "Take off your blouse and skirt," Alex said. "And the bra." I sat up again, removing the clothes until all I wore were the thigh hi hose he insisted on, and the heels digging into my thighs as I braced myself against them. I glanced at him, and he motioned for me to lean back again. I did. All I wore were the hose and the heels, and I was displayed for both men to look at me. There was no hair on my pussy. Alex wanted me to keep it shaved. It was smooth and sensitive and felt the cold air around me even more without the hair. Movement. Something soft brushing my thigh, Alex's face near mine - a pillow in his hands. "Lie back," he commanded. We had done this before. The pillow went under my hips, my knees still bent, and I lay back, putting my arms over my head. The pillow pushed my hips up, opening me even wider to their view. I wanted to shut my legs. I wanted to keep them open. He touched me briefly, on a nipple, down the belly, to just above the clit. I moved a little, then froze. He sat in his chair again. "Now watch," he said to Doug. I felt something against the inside of my thigh, something cold and hard - his shoe. It inched up as Alex leaned forward; I could just see part of him moving, in spite of my hips being up higher. I sucked in my breath, gasping; I felt the tip of his shoe, touching my clit. I moaned. I was surprised, embarrassed, waiting. I was wet. The shoe moved over the clit lightly, rubbing, pushing slightly on the lips. I was shutting my eyes, savoring this, when I felt pressure - the toe of the shoe mashing against my pussy, rubbing while it mashed, pushing against my clit, the lips, rubbing. The power of it, the degradation and the lust of it - I moaned, tightening my fingers against each other over my head, until I felt myself being to move my hips. How would I ever face this Doug in the halls again? I could hear both men breathing harder, heard Doug say softly "damn!" I stopped moving my hips. "My little slut needs another lesson in obedience," said Alex. He stood, ordering me to stand as well. Clamps placed on my nipples, cold and tight, bringing pain and more wetness between my legs. "My little slut loves some pain," Alex whispered, brushing his lips against my forehead, then pressing his thumb on a clamped nipple. I groaned. It hurt and felt good, too. "Raise your arms," he said. I did so, and felt him slide a leather corset around just my waist, working the laces as he cinched me tighter, tighter, until it was hard to breathe, and felt as though my pussy was swollen with blood and lust. I could feel it throbbing. I wanted him to touch me, even in front of Doug. The chains on the nipple clamps swung as Alex moved me across the room, bracing his hand against my back. We stopped before a pole, and I began to turn around to face him. "No." I stopped, waiting, feeling his hand slide down my back, over my butt, a sharp smack, then a push gently towards the pole. "I want you to entertain us," he said. I looked around, confused. I could see that Doug was watching us. Alex took my hands, placed them on the pole in front of me. "Open your legs, move up to the pole." I inched forward, holding the pole, inching until I bumped into the pole and stopped. "Good." He placed a leather strip around the top of one thigh, just where my hip and leg joined, then did the same to the other thigh. The effect of it was to push my pussy together and out, so that when I brushed against the pole, I almost cried out with wanting to be fucked. "Yes," Alex said. "You want it now, don't you? You're ready now." His hand pushed me against the pole, hard. "Keep your legs open, grip the pole with your hands." I looked at him, wondering. He smiled, his beautiful eyes cold and stern and lustful. "I want you to fuck it for us. We're going to watch you hump that pole, my sweet slut." I was humiliated. What? To do what, and in front of - him? And that - that man? "Rub. Up and down. Move against it. Rub yourself on it. But make yourself cum, my sweet. We won't leave until you do." The nipple clamps were aching, tugging at me. The straps around my thighs were pushing in, pushing my clit out, my lips out and together. "I can't," I whispered. A sharp smack on my butt, which pushed me into the pole. I gasped, grabbing at the pole, shutting my eyes, shivering It felt good. I clung there for a moment, my eyes closed, feeling myself pressing against the pole, until I remembered two men were watching me. I shuddered. I was desperate to get fucked, to have an orgasm, but I couldn't do this! I couldn't... I...pushed just a tiny bit against the pole, slowly. Just the pressure felt so good. I held myself to the pole for a moment until the pressure was not enough, and I moved, just a little. And my head went back as I felt something thick and good and hot in me wanting more, wanting to move more. I moved again, slowly, pushing against the pole and just rolling a little against it, and then that wasn't enough...I reached higher on the pole with my hands, opening my legs a little more, leaning backwards just a bit so that my hips pushed against the pole even more. I was so wet. I felt slick, and opening myself against the pole - I felt wild and slutty and I loved it. I knew they were watching me, and the need in me was so great I didn't care. I opened my legs wider, leaning back until I was on the toes of my shoes, and I pushed against the pole in rhythm, lifting off and pushing on, then pulled myself up and began to slide up and down a little, feeling my own wetness dampen my thighs and belly while I rubbed, feeling myself build up, the throbbing in me, pulsing, pushing against the pole, rubbing, my eyes closed and my mouth open as I gasped, wiping my mouth back and forth against the pole as my hands clung, and I pulled myself up and down the pole, fucking it while two men watched me, glad they could see me fucking the pole, masturbating against it while they watched me be a slut, glad I was a slut, wanting them to both take me, wanting everyone to watch me while I was naughty and bad and fucked and fucked, rubbing until I burst, crying out and clinging to the pole, squeezing my legs tight against it and shuddering, feeling my hair brush against the top of my butt as I threw my head back. I could always cum a second time right after the first, if I touched my clit again - I pushed up against the pole again and almost climbed it, screaming out and feeling myself cum again, wrapping myself around the pole, my breasts squeezed together on each side of the pole, my body shuddering as I pulled myself in little gasps against the pole again, rubbing, humping it just for them to watch me. I loved them watching me, I loved being a slut. I wanted to be fucked. Alex came over to me as I clung to the pole, shuddering, and pulled my hands away. They were red from clinging to the pole. He took me to his chair, made me lie on the floor again, the pillow under my hips. A red streak showed on my clit and lower belly from the pole. It was tender and still puffy. "Spread your legs wide for me, like a good slut. Let's see your pussy," he said. This time I was glad to. I opened them wide, wanting them both to look and touch and see me. I pulled my arms over my head, arching my back more, pushing my hips up. I jumped; Alex's shoe again, pressing against tender flesh, rubbing. I gasped, crying "Alex! Alex! Fuck me please, please" and he pumped the shoe against my pussy until I came again, my hips lifted, pushed against his shoe, knowing I was squirming on the ground for both men to watch me, opening myself and loving it, being used and using myself for them. I loved it. I lay gasping on the floor, shuddering, whispering "yes" as he knelt and gently began wiping my pussy with a warm cloth..."Next time," Alex said, "I have a little experiment in mind."