Teacher's Pet

They are in a class, stuck behind wooden desks, stained by years of ink and engraved with the initials of pupils long gone.

The rows are tiered, with hardly any legroom: he has to sit with his knees wide apart so that he doesn't knock into the woman in front, she keeps sliding around in her seat, unable to get comfortable.

Another sub slides into the seat next to him and smiles. Her Dom makes some joke about being between two subs. Immediately she feels her hackles come up. She has so little of him that what she has she is not prepared to share. And even if she had more, she ponders, she still would not want someone else to dilute the intensity she enjoys so much.

She looks at the sub. Her immediate reaction is to grab her by the throat, bare her teeth and rip the lifeblood out of her. A more sensible and satisfying choice would be to lean over, smile sweetly and tell her to "fuck off".

But she does neither of these things. Instead, she finds herself rising out of her seat and walking over to the teacher at the front of the class. She offers herself as a guinea pig for the lesson, looking over at her Sir as she does so.

The teacher motions for her to kneel, which she does. Surprisingly, this doesn't feel submissive. It's a role she feels comfortable in, in her old capacity as Teacher's Pet. It's a position she adopted much of the way through Grammar school: from the English teacher who introduced her to to Hardy and treated her as a substitute daughter, to the older history teacher with a penchant for Fascism who took her to expensive restaurants and the opera, to the RE teacher who would embarassingly serenade her in the corridor in front of her sniggering friends. Kneeling like this feels like coming home.

But then she feels a collar being placed around her neck. This one is not like her own collar. This is velcro and feels like it's strangling her. It makes her feel itchy; not just around her neck, but all over.

She's looking at her Dom who is staring back at her, impassive. The sub next to him, however, is goggling wide eyed with her mouth open.

And then she can hear the lead. It's not her lead but it sounds similar. Almost at once she feels her body respond. She has been conditioned to this, but the roaring in her ears, the wetness in her shorts, they just don't feel right when she is here and her Dom over there.

Her palms start to sweat and she is annoyed at herself for putting herself in this position. How stupid of her to think that this was a good idea. She wonders what her Dom is thinking of her now. Is he bemused, angry, shocked? His face gives nothing away and she feels herslef being pulled into a vacuum, further and further away from him.

And then she hears it, that familiar sound of a zip being undone. It's the teacher behind her. She has barely registered him up until now, but she realises with a start what he is expecting. She cen feel the sweat on her upper lip now. She doesn't want to do this but these feelings of submission are almost overpowering, she's not sure she can say no.

She feels the teacher getting closer and closer. She's looking straight at her Dom now, pleading with him to say something, to do something but he is silent, motionless. She wonders if he wants to see what she'll do. If he's playing some peverse game of chicken with her. Even if he was, she wouldn't blame him, she has got herself into this mess.

She can sense the teacher's body heat so close now. She can feel his hand as it reaches out for her hair, ready to twist her towards him. She's straining against the leash but that's all she can do. And then she sees it, an almost imperceptible shake of the head: so tiny you would only see it if you were looking for it. He has said no. Overwhelmed with relief, she scampers back to Him, kneeling by his side and laying her head on his knee. He strokes her hair softly and she clings to his calf, shaking, close to tears, until he leans down, pulls her head back to reveal her upturned face, and kisses them away.

Kneeling For Her Dom

He pulls her up on her toes to kiss her. It's hard, passionate, just what she wants, what she craves, and yet something is not right.

As he holds her close to him it seems to become more of a clasp than an embrace. He can feel her knees start to give way and is holding her firm, preventing her from crumbling to the floor as she is so desperate to do.

He pushes her forward to the bed, lifts her dress and takes her roughly from behind. She can feel him pushing her forward to take even more of his length, feel his hands in her hair, pulling it tight, but something is plucking at her concentration. She is trying to enjoy this. No, she is enjoying it. How could she not? And yet she isn't quite 100% there. Part of her is somewhere else.

He turns her around, pushing his cock into her mouth. She takes him as deep as she can, wanting to show her obedience, but also hoping that he will notice the depth of her feelings for him mirrored in the depth she takes him into her throat.

But all the time she is still aware that he hasn't let her kneel.

She doesn't realise it, but the tension is upsetting her slightly. Eventually she sobs into his chest. Once again the only man that can make her feel like this is the only man who can soothe it away.

Later, he tells her that as her Dom he can do whatever he wants with her, and that includes not letting her kneel, if he so wishes.

Interestingly, kneeling is something he started by telling her to do; now she feels that she needs to. Whilst his words thrill her by underlining his explicit and implicit control of her, they also leave her feeling slightly confused. She'd like to be able to second guess what he wants, and yet if he is going to do this, that's not going to be possible.

Finally, when he does let her go where she feels she needs to be, she clambers over and past his erect cock, before tumbling to the floor by the side of the bed. It's only then she starts to realise how deeply her submission has taken root.

Things That Bother Me About My Submission

Okay, time to balance things up. After all, nothing is that perfect is it. After my last posting of what I love about my submission, I cannot but mention the things that leave me less than soaring.

It Makes Me Feel Boring

Okay, so part of my brain is switched off and it is a delicious reprieve. But at the same time, yet another part of my brain switches off, the flirty, cheeky, intellectual hopping part, and the result is that I lose part of me. Sometimes I feel boring, one dimensional, unable to contribute to a conversation as it's just beyond my capabilities at that moment.

There are even occasions when I can't talk, literally.

Most of these extreme times I am so wrapped up in what is happening, and enjoying it, that it's not an issue. But there are moments when I do feel an acutely boring companion.


It Makes Me Vulnerable

It's only recently that I have cottoned on to how vulnerable I actually am, and I don't mean just physically. I willingly open myself up to situations and suggestions without really thinking it through and depend, totally, on the honorable nature of the other person. I have found out that I am very suggestible, which I suppose can be quite fun, especially for Him, and it certainly reinforces the feeling of being "controlled", taking it far, far away from mere role play. But it can be scary and I do worry about possible consequences. It also makes me worry about how other people could exploit it...or me.

It Has Shaken Up My Life

I mentioned that it has provoked a lot of change in my life, but that's not always been good. It has shaken things up past the point of no return in one case. Sometimes that can be very, very sad.