The Professor Who Submitted to His Dominating Student – Part 1
This story is about a birth, an apprenticeship, a dressage, but also a descent into hell to know the paradise. May these words make your imagination travel, may they excite you, whether you are Mistress or submissive. Experienced or fantasy, you will choose.
It was now two months that, every week, I was winning the capital for two days. Two months that I had donned my professor’s costume in the Ecole Supérieure de Journalisme (Journalism University) and that I taught, or rather tried to teach my students the art of the commentary on image. Two months I was also trying to distort them, to take away from their young minds and already so conformist those clichés and certainties that make our profession one of the most hated of the general public.
I was myself a journalist, from this school, and I had found with pleasure this quarter of the XIIIth, Tolbiac and that Parisian Asia that had made me so often travel to a more fantasized than real. I was in charge of two classes, which I saw every week for 3 hours. 30 students per class, A majority of young girls who mostly dreamed of walking in the footsteps of Claire Chazal. Some brilliant students, a majority who would never become good journalists, and some who would probably stop during the year.
Two months had been enough to have my preferences. My favorite too. Caroline. Brown with a matte complexion, not the most beautiful, but the one that emitted the most energy, the only one of which I had difficulty supporting the look. A hard, burning look, which seemed to sound me, plunge into me to bring to light my most unavowable secrets. She was also, in my opinion, the most brilliant, able to write and to recount, to captivate readers by her always right words.
Caroline & Ennia in my Fantasies
Caroline had her acolyte, Ennia. Her roommate from what I knew. She was a redhead with a dreamlike body a little like a porn actress, who often came to populate my lonely masturbations in the evening in my hotel room in the afternoon. Their duo, sitting in the second row, made me fantasize. And I imagined them in the most sensual outfits. Most of the time, they were dressed in leather or latex, and I enjoyed while they made me, a submissive teacher, their sexual slave when face-sitting. But it was only a dream, and from the height of my 40 years I knew I had no chance, in spite of my beautiful face and my look “little newspaper”, to have them one day in my bed and to be able to honor them with my tongue.
After my classes, I joined a café-restaurant where I used to live. I asked myself for an hour or two to read or call my family before going back to my hotel. This routine lasted until mid-December, until Thursday when my life fell into a world I had previously thought inaccessible. I had completed 3 hours of rather intense lessons on French media freedom, then discussed at length with the director, an old friend, and I had bought my favorite coffee in the pouring rain.
“Sir, you can sit down with us if you like.”
It was Ennia who had spoken, Caroline contented myself with sounding my gaze, as usual, displaying a mocking air.
“You’re soaked, it looks.”
I stammered a vague thank you, and took a seat on the bench, next to Ennia, just in front of Caroline. I was a man sure of myself. An inveterate seducer, I loved women and it was often said to me. But then I felt almost uncomfortable, or rather intimidated. The two girls had obviously begun to work on the duty I had given them for the following week.
Caroline’s great bag, placed on the table, vomited leaflets and pen, and a book with a gray cover that I immediately noticed: “Scéances”. A title of a beautiful red-blooded writing, above a whip of black leather. I had probably blocked a few seconds too much on the cover and when I met the look of Caroline, it became more intense, and her smile very particular. To hide my trouble, I proposed to them to get another drink and got up to go to the bar. I thought of only one thing, the blanket of this book sticking out of her bag, that evocative title and that whip. Had I read it wrong? I was no longer sure of anything. And I dreaded returning to their table, wondering how I could conceal my trouble.
The Glare of Caroline
Ennia came to my assistance, involuntarily, being the most talkative, asking me about the job, the outlets, the difficulty of finding an internship. Caroline was less talkative, but she was staring at me, and every time I met her, she always showed the same smile. And that smile only said one thing: I know what you saw.
The night was already falling, although the clock was only five o’clock, and I was thinking of taking leave of the young ladies. No doubt to escape Caroline’s inquisitive gaze, which troubled me more and more. But before I opened my mouth, Caroline looked at me.
– We live next door, come and have a drink, we can continue this conversation and I would like to show you the article on which I’m working on, you know, the investigation that you have imposed on us for the school year.
An invitation which did not suffer any refusal, a refusal of which I was besides incapable.
– With pleasure, I’ll follow you.
A Short Walk to Pleasure
They lived a few minutes away. They were well housed in a rather spacious apartment on the 5th floor of one of the towers of the Avenue de Choisy. A tastefully furnished apartment, dark colors, carpets, candles everywhere.
– Get comfortable, I’ll get something to drink.
Ennia obviously took matters into her own hands, playing the accomplished housewives, while Caroline was sitting on the sofa. Ennia quickly returned with the drinks and Caroline apostrophized it, in a voice that I found quite hard:
-Light the candles, and go change.
I showed nothing of my surprise, but my agitation became more intense. Usually voluble, I kept silent. Caroline patted the couch beside her:
– Come sit here, I will show you what I have already written for the investigation.
My breathing had accelerated when I sat next to her. She immediately stuck her thigh against mine, spreading her legs a little.
“Read, and tell me what you think of it.”
I plunged into reading, glad to have enough to distract my thoughts that wandered on the side of my secret fantasies. The reading took me a few minutes. I still felt Caroline’s thigh against me, but it did not seem to bother her.
– Well, let’s say it’s a very good start. But there are passages that need to be reworked. This is not enough of an argument and you muddle a little in your demonstration. You missed a thread …
An Annoyed Dominant
Caroline’s gaze did not hide her annoyance, and I felt almost uncomfortable. I had been professional, honest, and I was afraid I had been a little too hard. Ennia returned to the show and stopped me in my thoughts. She had swapped her jeans for a black, ultra short skirt, which showed dim-ups. Black stilettos on her feet, black top almost transparent, without a bra, her hair united in a long red braid. I was speechless, fascinated by her beauty, and the eroticism that she emanated.
– uh … I … uh ….. maybe I’ll leave you. I have to work on my course tomorrow and it’s getting late
I said, without taking my eyes off the sexual goddess who had just made her appearance.
“You should stay,” replied Caroline, putting her hand on my thigh. “My little bitch got beautiful for you.”
To be continued