1. Strict Tutor


    Date: 12/14/2015, Categories: BDSM, Author: Elochai644, Rating: 7, Source: LushStories

    my back. At first, I simply allowed you to write in silence, occasionally looking over your shoulder, checking your work. As the session went on, however, I began to break the silence by asking questions - querying dates of important events, or names of important figures in history. At first, you did quite well, not missing a question, and with each correct answer, I rested a hand on your shoulder and squeezed appreciatively, or ran my fingertips over the nape of your neck. I continued to pace the room, my eyes now no longer focused on your work, but instead on you - your subtle ministrations as you concentrate on the task at hand, the subtle flicker of your eyes, the pursing of your lips, the crossing and uncrossing of your legs. The session continued, and the questions resumed. This time, however, they were considerably more difficult, and I savoured the flashes of confusion and concern on your face as you carefully considered each answer. Finally, it happened - you gave your first incorrect answer. Instead of the usual congratulatory brush of my fingertips, I simply walked slowly towards my suitcase, and unbuckled one of the clasps without a word. I let the silence hang for another minute before asking another question, even more obscure than the last. Another wrong answer, and the second clasp was undone. You attempted to turn your head and peek at the suitcase, but I put an end to that with a sharp snap of my fingers. "Two wrong answers in a row, Kitten. Now's no time ...
    to be focusing on anything but your study." Again, I began pacing around you, watching your work. I could see a slight tremble in your writing, now, and you checked and double-checked your notes time and time again. Suddenly, I kneel next to you, my head just inches away from your ear, and ask another question. I see your eyes go wide and dart over your notes frantically, and I smile internally. I see your head drop as the realisation hits - you don't know the answer. After a time, you simply shake your head in response, a look of genuine shame upon your face. I kneel for a moment longer, sighing as I lift myself to my feet. Once again, I pace over to my suitcase, and I lift the lid. Inside is a veritable treasure trove of punishment implements. Floggers, flayers, whips, crops, canes, paddles, clamps, collars, chains and all other manner of toys. Of course, you aren't aware of any of these. Your head is still hung over your books, and all you can hear is my suitcase opening, and a light metallic rustling. Finally, you hear the suitcase close again, and my voice, stern and commanding. "Stand, and place your hands on the desk. Don't turn around." You hesitate for a moment, and you begin to swivel your neck. Abruptly, I step towards you. "I said stand!". You feel my hand grasp your shoulder and squeeze - no longer the same appreciative gesture, but much harder, more demanding this time. I pull you upright, and toss your chair away as I do so. It clatters loudly across the room, ...
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