Content description: (Skip this if you don’t want any spoilers)
*This story continues the story of a male university student who submits to his dominant middle-aged lecturer. If you haven’t read it already, it is recommended that you begin with the first* [‘A Lesson in Humility’](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/x3v36o/a_lesson_in_humility_fetish_femdom_humiliation/) *story.*
*It is a femdom msub story.*
Featured fetishes include: boots, cfnm, cum eating, femdom (gentle / soft), humiliation, masturbation, older woman / younger man, shaving, tease and denial, aftercare.
**Prologue:**
The last week had been a blur. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. In seminars he could barely follow the conversation. In lectures he didn’t take in a word. His mind kept drifting back to that Friday afternoon. In one lecture he was so distracted wondering if this same room, filled with students – some furiously taking notes, others simply trying to stay awake after another late night writing essays due for the next morning – could really be the same one where she had brought him to orgasm, the most mind-blowing of his life, and then ordered him to swallow every bitter white drop of it. The one in which he had lapped the last drops of his cum from her palm like a dog from a bowl. It had almost seemed too bizarre to have been real until the email arrived, late on Wednesday evening.
*Hello James,*
*I believe it would be a good idea for us to meet privately to discuss your progress. Unfortunately, my office is currently unavailable. Therefore, if it is not inconvenient for you, please visit me at my home at 6pm on Friday evening. The address is below.*
*Best,*
*Miriam*
It was professionally written. Perhaps under other circumstances it would have seemed completely normal, despite the rarity of students visiting lecturer’s homes, but the moment James read it his heart started racing. From that moment onwards all he could do was count down the hours until six o’clock on Friday evening.
**Part 1: The clock struck six**
The light was already fading. The Tudor-style house in front of him, so typical of these historical English towns, had its curtains drawn. It seemed innocuous enough with its white walls and black crossbeams. It was small but definitely a more upmarket kind of place, perhaps the kind of place that you would expect a kindly old retiree in a knitted cardigan to own. But to James it seemed equally exciting and daunting. He noticed that his palms were sweaty despite the late-October chill. His throat was dry. And why? Because she was in there. Desperate to see her again though he was, he gulped nervously as he raised his finger to that ornate doorbell, push it inwards, and heard the deep ding-dong emanate from inside the house.
After what seemed like an eternity the door creaked open and there she stood, dressed simply in a long-sleeved black shirt that hugged her slender figure and tight blue jeans. On her feet were black knee-length boots with a gold-coloured buckle and a thick one-inch heel. As usual she wore her gold-rimmed glasses, framing her green eyes. Her lips curled into a smile. “James, it is so wonderful to see you again. Stop standing there gawking and come in. Quickly now.” Her tone brooked no argument. She spoke as though there were no reason anyone in the world would refuse to do as she said. James certainly wouldn’t, and he trotted quickly up the couple of stairs that led into the warmth of her house. It was decorated simply inside, a very traditional style with lots of brown hardwood and a few small pictures to add splashes of colour. Even the floors were wooden, unusually. Almost everyone James knew had carpets.
“Follow me” she said, leading him into the living room. It too was old-fashioned, dominated by a blazing log fire that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in a Medieval tavern. Unsurprisingly, it also held several bookshelves stuffed with books that ranged from faded leather-backed ones that looked to be over a hundred years old and sported names like Baudelaire and Balzac to modern hardbacks in pristine condition. He even spotted the Harry Potter series, sitting tucked away on one of the lower shelves. One book, beautiful with its ornate gold lettering on a red spine dulled by age, caught his eye. It was by someone called Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, a name that rang a bell but he couldn’t remember from where.
She led him to the middle of the room, then instructed “stand still, eyes forwards.” He did his best to obey, fixing his eyes on the fireplace as she walked around him in a circle, her boot heels echoing on the floor. After completing her 360-degree reconnaissance of him, she stopped directly in front of him. Suddenly, her hand was on his chest, clasping the zip of his hoodie, pulling it down then removing it from his torso. He tried not to move but kept his arms loose and pliable so that she could pull the garment off him. Folding it quickly she then placed it on a nearby table. Next she knelt down at his feet, carefully unlacing his trainers. “Left foot up” she instructed, and when he obeyed she slipped his trainer off, followed by his sock. “Right foot up” she instructed as the process was repeated with the other foot. “Arms up,” and then his shirt was off and he was stripped to the waist. He could almost feel his nipples harden even though the room was hardly cold, and then he felt a sudden jolt of excitement in his stomach. Her hand was on his belt buckle, undoing it deliberately slowly. She seemed to be relishing in the moment. She slid it off him and then her hands were on the fly of his jeans, her fingers inside his waistband, so close, so frustratingly, tantalisingly close, to his cock. “Keep still James” she said, as if reading his mind. His fists were balled, his legs tensed as he willed every muscle in his body not to move. As she slowly lowered his jeans his prick became obvious, defiantly standing to attention. She knelt and he could almost feel his libido take control at the thought of her mouth so agonisingly close to his erection, but she simply said “you’re doing very well. Right foot up, very good, and now the left” as she removed his jeans. Finally, it was time, her fingers were against his skin, inside his boxer shorts, pulling them down. She had no need to instruct him as he automatically lifted up his feet for her to pull the boxer shorts off, one leg at a time.
And there he was, standing naked in this woman’s home, and her still fully-clad in her tight black shirt, her jeans, and her black boots with the one-inch heel. She even still had the gold wire-framed glasses on. There was no denying his excitement at being in such an intimate situation, but the way she was looking at him… Well, the phrase “like a piece of meat,” the one she had used in their first encounter, came immediately to his mind and he felt the sudden urge to cover up. He resisted it. Cover up with what? She had taken his clothes from him.
“James, are you going to be a good boy for me?” Her BBC accent could sound like honey when she wasn’t barking orders.
“Yes, yes I am.”
“Hmm, I don’t like that. From now on, you shall call me ‘Madam’ or ‘Ma’am’ if you prefer, as a sign of respect.”
“Yes M-Madam.” The word felt alien in his mouth. He had never referred to a woman as ‘Madam’ in his life.
“In return I shall call you ‘boy’ because you’re not a man, are you? Not really.”
“N-no…” he said, a bit unsure of whether or not that was the correct answer. She stepped close to him, close enough to whisper in his ear as she placed a single finger on his nipple, circled it around, then traced it silkily down his torso, across his pelvis, and to the base of his cock.
“You’re mine, boy, to do whatever I want with.” Her breath was hot in his ear. Suddenly, she ran her hot, wet tongue up his neck, finishing by licking his ear. His spine felt electrified with shivers of pleasure. “And what I want” she said, her fingers running ever so gently along the length of his shaft “is to start by teaching you some manners!” Her hand was on his balls and suddenly squeezing tight.
“So try again: ’No I am not a man,’ what?”
“I’m not a man Madam!” he grunted.
“Good boy” she said, releasing his balls. She began to caress them slowly. “Do you remember what happened after you stripped last time?” How could he forget?
“I got on my knees…” he said, and as he felt her grasp tighten around his sack he quickly added “Madam!”
“Very good. From now on every time you are here you will remove your clothes and get on your knees. You may not walk or wear clothes without my explicit permission. Understood, boy?”
“Yes Madam” he said, dropping to his knees.
“Wonderful, now follow me.”
Author: VenusEnCuero
A Lesson in Humility [Fetish] [Femdom] [Humiliation]
Disclaimer: All characters featured in this short story are
fictional. Any similarities to any person, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.
All characters featured in this story are over the age of
18.
Content description: (Skip this if you don’t want any
spoilers)
*This story features the humiliation of a male*
*eighteen-year-old student at the hands of his university lecturer. It is a*
*femdom msub story but does not feature extreme practices.*
*Featured fetishes include: cfnm, , edging, humiliation*
*(verbal and non-verbal), shoe kissing, older woman younger man,*
*teacher-student, masturbation, tease and denial, cum eating, aftercare*
**Part 1 – Waiting for the Bell**
It was 4:30 in the afternoon and James, sat in the dull,
almost-windowless lecture hall, was struggling to concentrate on the lecture
rather than the lecturer. He was not the only one. She had a stern, angular
face framed by black hair that was cut quite short, only reaching to her ears.
On her pointed nose rested golden-framed glasses, framing her bright green eyes.
Her lightly tanned skin was starting to show hints of her age, with laughter
lines around her mouth. Her name was Miriam, although some of the boys in the
class had secretly nicknamed her MILFiam. It may not have been the wittiest or
cleverest nickname in the world, but James couldn’t disagree with it, as his
eyes were drawn to her pert breasts beneath the thin red jumper which seemed
barely big enough to contain them as it clung to her svelte frame. He blinked
and tried to focus on what she was saying rather than her body. His end-of-term
paper would be due soon and, as usual, he hadn’t even started it.
“When you think about Kafka, or any author for that matter,
it is vitally important to consider the historical context in which he was
writing.” She spoke with the kind of accent that reminded him of the
upper-class characters from those BBC period dramas his parents were always
watching, although he personally was hardly a fan. They all seemed very much
the same to him.
“Kafka died just under one hundred years ago, and his world
was vastly different to ours. He lived through the First World War, although he
never served due to his poor health.” She paused and ever so briefly licked her
lips to moisten them. That small gesture was enough to set James fantasising
again, imagining that tongue teasing the head of his cock before she took it in
her mouth and deep into the back of her throat. He felt his cock start to
stiffen and bit his lip, shifting his leg so that the bulge in his trousers was
less obvious. He silently thanked God that he had decided to wear jeans rather
than tracksuit bottoms that day. He realised that he had not masturbated for a
couple of days, his life having become a whirlwind of parties, lectures, and a
gym routine he was trying to get into, not to mention a few mornings spent too
hung over to do anything but swallow paracetamol and drink glass after glass of
water. But now his libido was driving him crazy. All he wanted to do was head
home and give himself some much-needed relief, or better yet, plunge his cock
into a girl and fuck her senseless. Once again he was fantasising, imagining
bending Miriam over the table, hiking up her tight black pencil skirt, pulling
down her tights and taking her there and then, making her cry out in ecstasy until
he filled her with his cum. Shit. His cock was rock hard. Focus. Kafka.
Literature. In the Penal Colony.
“Of course, In the Penal Colony deals with the themes
of crime and punishment, including corporal and capital punishment. When the
Officer asks to have the torture device used on him you must ask yourselves
why. Does anyone have any ideas?”
“He feels like he deserves to be punished” suggested a girl
in the front row. James knew her by sight. She was a short, cute brunette who
seemed to have the pathological need to be the first person to contribute to
any given lecture. Teacher’s pet, he thought. Or lecturer’s pet. Perhaps that’s
more appropriate for uni.
“He enjoyed pain?” suggested a student from the back.
“Kinky!” cried out a voice from somewhere in the middle, to
suppressed laughter.
“Well, perhaps” replied Miriam. There is a paper that
analyses that, it’s called ‘Kafka and the Eroticisation of Suffering’ if memory
serves. Perhaps you’d like to read it?” There was no response. She continued
“we are adults here and art and literature often touch on adult themes. It is
part of life. I hope that will not be a problem for any of you.” She checked
her watch.
“That brings us to exactly 5pm so I will let you all go and
start your weekends. Please remember to read the PDFs on your class syllabus.
They’ve been uploaded to the platform. If you have any problems accessing them
my office hours are Mondays from 9am until 11am and Wednesdays from 2pm until
4pm. Have a nice weekend everybody!”
The students got up to leave but James busied himself with
his rucksack, fumbling around while he prayed for his erection to disappear amid
the hubbub of footsteps and conversations about plans for the weekend. When his
erection had gone down enough and he looked up he found that he was the last
one there, his classmates seemingly too eager to wait around. He got to his
feet and went down the stairs, keen to get home. As he neared the door, a voice
stopped him.
**Part 2 – The Last One Out**
“James, could you spare me a minute?” He turned to see
Miriam looking at him.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Marvellous. Please,
have a seat, but first shut the door. I’d like for us to have some privacy.”
James shut the door as instructed, then sat down at a desk in
the front row. Miriam sat down on the desk in front of him. He couldn’t help
fixating on that thin autumn sweater and the white shirt she wore under it. It was
just open enough to reveal a tantalising inch or two of cleavage. Focus, he
told himself. Look at her face.
“Did you enjoy today’s lecture, James?” she asked him.
“Yeah, of course, it was, erm, very interesting.” He could
barely remember which story she had been lecturing on, let alone any of the
details.
“Are you sure? You seemed to be having some trouble
concentrating” she said, her deep green eyes regarding him from behind those
gold wire-framed glasses.
“Yeah, well it’s the last lecture of the week, you know.” He
was a terrible liar and he knew it.
“Quite” she said in that
clipped, boarding-school tone. “Do you know that it can also be hard for me to focus,
James?”
“I supp-“
“Especially” she said, leaning slightly forwards. He could
see even more of her cleavage now, and fought to keep his eyes on hers. It was
a losing battle. “Especially when students are starting at me like a piece of
meat. It is humiliating, and objectifying. I do not appreciate being humiliated
or objectified.” He started to stammer out an apology but she cut him off. “Save
it.” He gasped out loud at what happened next: she dropped down from the desk
she had been sitting on, gently, like a cat, then put one hand on his knee. She
looked deep into his eyes and told him: “this could work out very well for you
James. You could have a nice time. But you must do exactly as I tell you, do you understand?” He
simply nodded. He sat, rooted in place as her hand snaked its way up his thigh
and onto the bulge in his jeans.
“You want me to touch this, don’t you James?”
“Yeah… Yes, I do,” stammered James.
“Get up then, and stand in front of the desk,” she said. As
he did so, she turned to lower the blind on the window, then she turned a key
in the lock.
“I think some privacy might be a good idea, don’t you?” He
just nodded. “Well, now we’re alone, let’s see everything. Strip!” He couldn’t
believe his ears. It was an instruction he’d never expected to hear from her,
indeed, he had never expected that in his life he would be ordered to strip in
the tone that a prison guard might use in a new captive, but he had no
intention of disobeying her regardless. He quickly threw off his hoodie and
t-shirt, then his trainers, socks, jeans and finally… he paused for a second.
“Everything?” he said.
“I said ‘everything’ and I meant ‘everything’.”
“Okay” he said, and hurriedly pulled down his boxer shorts.
All eight inches of his cock, rock hard and already glistening with pre-cum,
sprang up.
“Stand still and keep your hands behind your back.” She
leant back against the desk, arms folded, taking in every inch of his naked
body. She was looking at him ‘like a piece of meat’ as she would have said. “Yes,
I think you’ll do. Keep standing still.”
She took a couple of
steps forward, so far into his personal space that he could feel her breath hot
on his ear. Then, suddenly, “Do you like that James?” One hand on his balls,
the other on his back, her voice, whispered in his ear sending shivers down his
spine.
“Yes, yes I really do!” he stammered out.
“It’s funny, isn’t it James?” she said as she gently
caressed his balls. “When a man is brave, we say he has balls, but really,
they’re the most weak, fragile things…” At that, she grabbed them harder and he
stifled a cry. “In fact, almost any man can be controlled by the two bollocks
between his legs…” She pulled slowly downwards until he had no choice but to lower
himself with them, until soon he was on his knees. “Did that hurt? Perhaps
you’d prefer it if I did this?” She ran a single finger slowly along the
underside of his cock, all the way from the balls to the head, finishing
tantalisingly by rubbing a single drop of precum into the head. He nodded
eagerly.
“Yes, I would!”
“You will have to earn it. I still feel insulted by the way
you leered at me. Kiss my shoe and ask for forgiveness.” She stuck her left foot
out. Her black-stockinged leg was encased in a black leather shoe with a short
heel. Nothing unusual, the kind many women wore to the workplace every single
day
“Kiss your shoe?”
“Yes James.” She wrapped her hand around his cock and slowly
jerked the foreskin back and forth along the head. “Unless you’d prefer this to
stop?” she said, letting go of his cock. Wordlessly, he bent his head forwards
to kiss the proffered shoe.
“Good boy” she said and once again those two words sent a
tingle he could not explain down his spine. She pulled her foot away then sat
down on the desk. “You may touch yourself now.” He didn’t need to be told twice
and eagerly started to jerk his cock. For her part, she opened her legs lewdly,
letting her see right up her skirt. Her tights only went up to her thigh and he
could see that she was wearing black panties that matched her bra. He took that
as his cue and started to rise to his feet, but a single foot on his shoulder
stopped him. “I don’t think so James. Until you learn to be better, this” – she
ever so briefly pushed her panties to one side, revealing a shaved pink pussy
that was glistening wet before it was once again hidden behind that black
cotton and lace – “is not for you. How does that make you feel?”
“Frustrated” he said, and it was the honest truth. Here he
was, so close and yet so far. “I could give you a lot of pleasure, you know.
I’ve had a bit of practice an- “She cut him off with a laugh.
“Oh James, no. I don’t think so. You’re just a boy, and I
need a man.” Then, seeing his hand was off his cock and he was looking
crestfallen, she added: “I didn’t tell you to stop masturbating.”
“Sorry” he said, although he had no idea why he was
apologising. He started stroking his cock again.
“You are good at that though, aren’t you? Have you had a lot
more practice at pulling yourself off than pulling girls?” He didn’t know what
to say but his face was turning a bright shade of red.
“Erm…”
“Answer me. Remember you must do everything I say. So, let’s
try again. Do you masturbate a lot?”
“I… suppose so.”
“How often? Once per day? Twice per day?”
“Once per day, usually.”
“Are you a virgin, James? Do the girls ignore you in favour
of other boys?”
“No, I’m not…” Technically, it was the truth. He had
received a couple of tipsy, 2am blowjobs from girls he hardly knew and returned
in kind with clumsy attempts at eating them out. Did that count?
“So you have penetrated a woman’s vagina, then?”
“No…” he admitted, his cheeks now even brighter red, but his
cock was throbbing and his balls were tightening. It must have shown in his
face because she asked him,
“Are you close? Close to achieving orgasm?”
“Yes!”
“Stop.” With more self-control than he knew he had, he did
so.
“You are at a crossroads. I will allow you to achieve orgasm
today but you must choose how: your hand, or mine?”
“Yours!” said James, immediately.
“There is a price to pay though. If you bring yourself to
orgasm you can spill your semen on the ground, then clean it up. If I bring you
to orgasm you will be made to swallow every last drop. So, I’ll ask you again:
my hand or yours?”
“Yours” said James, albeit with less certainty.
“Very well. Lie back and I will give you the pleasure you
seek. He did exactly as he was told; she took his cock in her hand, but she was
slow, beginning with long strokes along the underside, light as a feather.
“Please, can you go a bit faster?”
“I could but I won’t. Patience and stamina are very useful
qualities in a young man and you will learn both.”
“Please!” He doubted he had ever been this turned on in his
life before.
“No, James. It’s my way or the highway.” She ran her hand up
his shaft and, with just her index finger, rubbed the head using a drop of his precum
as lubricant. Her finger moved in widening circles until she was teasing the
underside of his head. James moaned, openly. It felt like nothing he had
experienced. She moved her hand back down his shaft, twisting around it, then
took it in a firmer grip and started to jerk it.
“Yes, that feels so good” he gasped.
“Are you close, James?”
“Yes, so close…” he could hardly speak and he could feel his
face contorting. Upon hearing this she slowed down again, jerking him with
slow, deliberate strokes. She leant over him, her face at his ear.
“Remember the deal.”
“I do,” gasped James.
“What are you going to do when you orgasm?”
“I have to swallow my cum” he said, and felt an anxious,
humiliated twang in his stomach at the thought.
“Good boy. Very good boy. There is one more thing. You are
going to ask for my permission before you orgasm. You will say ‘please may I
cum?’ and if you do it without my permission you will suffer the consequences,”
she released his penis as she reached the bottom of his shaft and grasped his
balls again, tightly, to punctuate that final word. “Do you understand?”
“Yes!”
“Very good.” She started to pick up the pace and James
almost immediately found himself on the brink of orgasm.
“Please may I cum?”
“Not yet” she said, suddenly releasing his cock. He was so
frustrated he could have screamed. “Take a deep breath.” He did so. After a
second, she took his cock in her hand again, quickly building up the pace until
after just a few seconds he found his balls tightening once again and it seemed
as though nothing could stop his orgasm.
“PLEASE?! Please may I cum?!” Her hand froze in place on the
tip of his cock and she looked at him mock-thoughtfully for a second.
“No.” She let go. This time he did cry out in frustration. “Well
James, you know what they say. ‘Third time’s the charm.’ Let’s see if you get
lucky.” She took his cock in hand once again and started to stroke it,
repeating the same technique as before, starting slowly then quickly bringing
up the pace.
“You’re going to eat your cum, James. You’re going to lick
up all of that filth.” He groaned even as he felt another twang in his stomach.
“Please may I cum!?”
“Yes James.” She cupped her left hand around the head of his
cock as she jerked him with the right, ready to catch everything that came out.
He gasped out loud as his orgasm exploded out of him, his cock
spasming as it shot rope after rope of cum into her waiting palm. He lay back,
dazed, his cock still giving the occasional spasm as his balls fully emptied
themselves.
“Open wide” she said. “Tongue out.” He obeyed as if in a
trance, watching her hand filled with his cum travel towards him. She tipped it
down his throat and he tasted that acrid substance for the first time, feeling
how viscous it was as it went down his gullet.
“Lick my palm clean, James.” He did, tasting that same
bitterness mix with the salt of her skin. It was total humiliation, lapping his
cum from her hand like a dog drinking from a bowl. He sank back down, still
dazed. He tried to make sense of it all. Two hours ago – what time was it
anyway? – he had been thinking about the weekend, the pub, his mates, going
out, trying to score in a club. Now he was lying naked in front of his
lecturer, her fully clothed, his cock now flaccid, the last endorphins of the
orgasm finally flowing out of him, and strangest of all, the aftertaste of his
own cum in his mouth.
**Part 3 – After the Explosion**
She knelt next to him and gently pulled his head onto her
lap.
“That was… strange” he said. That was the only way he could
describe it. She stroked his face with the back of her hand.
“The first time is always strange, but you did very well.”
“Did what very well? I mean, I know what I did, but… what is
what I did?” He was having trouble expressing the thought.
“You submitted to me. I was quite sure of it when I saw you
in my seminars and lectures, the way you behave. Now I know for certain: you
are naturally submissive. And today I brought it out of you. How do you feel?”
“Good… I suppose. It’s strange but… I did have a good time.”
He tensed up as he noticed that the room now felt colder.
“You’d best get dressed; you’ll catch a cold lying here
naked on the floor.”
“You’re right…” He got to his feet unsteadily and began
picking up his discarded clothes.
Once fully dressed, he leant against one of the desks, his
head still spinning.
“It’s perfectly normal to feel a little strange, even a
little down, after something like this,” she explained. “Would you like a hug?”
After everything that had happened it took him quite aback, but he replied,
“Yeah, yes please.” She pulled his head close to her chest. She
was lovely and warm.
“I had a very good time too today. And as I said, you
impressed me. There are so many other pleasures I could show you…” she said,
one hand making its way up her trouser leg. His cock, unbelievably, was hard
again. She ran her hand along it once then said “You’d best be off now James.
Your friends will be wondering where you’ve got to.” He looked pleadingly into
her eyes. “No, the puppy eyes have never worked on me and they never will. Off
you go.”
Disappointed, he took his rucksack and headed out into the
darkness, his cock stiff and uncomfortable in his jeans, yearning for her to
touch it once more.