Eager to learn

You feel your muscles tense with anger. How fucking dare this asshole tell me it’s my… feminine nature holding me back. He says I need his male authority? Well I think he needs a swift kick in the nuts. At the same time, another feeling rises to the surface, as if summoned by your impulsive internal rebellion. This feeling is new, unfamiliar, confusing. You don't have a word for it, just a sensation. The heat that bloomed when he punished you yesterday. The heat that became a glowing warmth when he smiled at you. The glowing warmth that became an explosive orgasm when he hit your pussy.

The need to feel that again.

You're here to... to learn, right RC? So let him teach you. That thought sets off a tingling inside. Almost like... anticipation. Pushing through the stubborn anger still boiling at his condescending words, you open your mouth to reply "Y-yes, Mr. Peterson. T-teach me obedience." The act of speaking those words causes that tingling inside to surge, and you start to notice it most strongly in your crotch.

Mr. Peterson cocks his head to the side, his expression unreadable. "You surprise me, Miss Murray. I had not expected you to be quite so... eager this early in the lesson." He takes a deep breath. "All the same, I'm always happy to teach a committed student. Now, obedience comes in many forms, Miss Murray. The first thing you must learn is that your own desires are secondary to the will of your instructor." He pauses. "Lift your skirt and show me your panties."

The sudden command makes your breath catch in your throat. Part of you, the part that's still fuming at his sexist comments from a moment ago, wants to give him a good hard smack in the face before turning around and walking right out the door. But now that you've taken a step down this path, you can't ignore that tingling inside. You need to find out where it will lead you.

Taking a shaky breath, you reach for the front of your pleated schoolgirl skirt, belatedly remembering to answer "y-yes, Mr. Peterson." You grasp the edge of the fabric, trying your best to ignore your inner voice begging you to stop, and lift. Your eyes drop down to the floor as your skirt rises to reveal your panties, and you feel your cheeks glow with heat. That tingling is driving you mad now.

"Very good, Miss Murray. Now, look at me." His voice is calm and quiet, a sharp contrast to your inner turmoil, and you have **** but to obey. When you meet his dark eyes you let out a little gasp. That fire you saw in them yesterday is burning hotter and wilder than ever. "There is a wet spot on the front of your panties, Miss Murray. Tell me, are you aroused already?"

The tingling inside surges, now undeniably focused on your pussy. "I... I... I don't know, Mr. Peterson." Am I turned on? Why? How? He hasn't even touched me yet.

"Come now, Miss Murray. I have already given you instruction in openness. You chose the advanced tutoring, so I expect a bit more dedication to your lessons." His voice is sharp now, making your heart pound in your chest. "Now, tell me what that wetness is."

You know the answer, and you know you want to hide the humiliating truth, but you can't. Your teacher gave you a command, and you have to obey so he'll make you come again. "It... it's p-pussy juice, Mr. Peterson."

"And that is an indicator of what, Miss Murray?"

What did he call it yesterday? "Er... f-female arousal, Mr. Peterson."

"So what does that mean, Miss Murray?"

He's really gonna make me say it. "I... I'm aroused, Mr. Peterson."

"Indeed you are, Miss Murray. In fact, that wet spot is growing as we speak." The fire in his eyes is blazing dangerously hot, making your knees shake. "Now, let's see just how dedicated you are to this lesson in obedience, Miss Murray. Keep your skirt lifted, and get on your knees."

Are you fucking serious? This is way over the line. What the fuck does he think he's talking about? On my knees? For him?! Even as your inner voice cries out in disbelief, you feel yourself sinking down. Your body isn't listening to your internal protest. It's listening to that sensational tingling. It's listening to the heat in your pussy. It's listening to the commands of Mr. Peterson.

Your knees hit the floor, and you look up at your teacher, overwhelmed by the sheer newness of what you're doing. Heart pounding, breaths shallow, you can't keep your thoughts straight. Your urge to resist his commands keeps getting lost in the thrill of obeying them, of being below him, of presenting your damp crotch to the teacher you hate most. Now that he's drawn your attention to it, you can't ignore the feeling of your panties growing wetter and wetter.

"Tell me, Miss Murray, why are you on your knees right now?" His voice has a rough edge to it now that you'd never noticed before.

"I, er..." You furrow your brows, trying to focus through the thickening haze of your arousal. "Because... you told me to kneel, Mr. Peterson?"

"And why did you obey that command?"

What the fuck? "I... because... you're my teacher, Mr. Peterson."

"Would you have obeyed this command in the classroom, Miss Murray?" His burning dark eyes are captivating.

"Er, no, Mr. Peterson, but I..." I want to come. I want you to make me come like you did yesterday. Holy shit it was so good I can't stop thinking about it. "...I chose the advanced tutoring. I agreed to obey your... your instructions."

"And why did you choose the advanced tutoring, Miss Murray?"

"I... I... I wanted..."

"Remember, Miss Murray. Honesty and openness."

I don't want to say it I don't want to admit how fucking pathetic I am to him. "I... I wanted... I wanted you to make me come again, Mr. Peterson." The tingling inside has become a constant buzzing of need, and you feel your pussy throb with every answer he pulls out of you.

"Indeed, Miss Murray." His eyes have finally left your face to fixate on your soaked panties. "Face to the floor, Miss Murray. Prostrate yourself before me."

There's a scream of protest from your inner voice, but all you can do is let out a soft moan and a shaky "y-yes Mr. P-peterson." You release your skirt and lean forward, pressing your face to the floor with your palms flat in front of your head. Just when you think you can't possibly feel any more humiliated, any lower, any more pathetic, you feel the flat leather sole of his shoe press down on the back of your head. Another moan escapes your lips, this one low and rumbling, and the throbbing in your pussy becomes a sharp ache.

"I'm quite disappointed in you, Miss Murray." That rough edge to his voice has taken over now, making his normally calm and even tone into a thrilling growl. "I had hoped you were at least somewhat motivated by a desire for self-improvement, but I see now that your sexual impulses are simply too strong to control."

You want to say something, protest, apologize, anything, but the only sound you can make is a pathetic whine. Please, Mr. Peterson, I'm sorry. It just felt so good. I just want you to... punish me again.

Please punish me for being so pathetic.

As if he can read your mind, you feel him press his foot more firmly down against your head. "It seems I will need to... adjust my expectations, Miss Murray." You hear a soft clink of a belt buckle being undone. "As well as my methods."