Private Tuition (25 page)

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Authors: Jay Merson

BOOK: Private Tuition
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"Although a great deal of money changed hands on your account I won't insult you by offering you money. Please however understand that your salaries and allowances, plus the upkeep of the apartment is due in no small part to the organisation and as such the money is returned to you indirectly."

"Fine, no problem from my side."

"May I now take it that you have lost any thoughts of a take-over bid for control, even though your friend Louise may not?"

"How the hell did you know about that?” Paula sat upright in surprise at the remark.

"It doesn't matter, just answer me truthfully."

"I did have thoughts on those lines, not malicious you understand, just to feel a little more feminine and to use my body more."

"I understand that,” the professor said kindly. Paula really believed that he did. “Are you happy with our private arrangement?"

"Cynthia you mean?"

"Yes, Cynthia."

"Of course,” Paula snapped, a little hurt that he should question her on that subject.

"Then so am I. Does the role of Cynthia fulfil your desires to control me?"

"Pretty much."

"Good, then we lay this subject to rest once and for all. I do however require you swear obedience to me,” he said, smiling.

"Ever yours, master,” Paula said sincerely, slipping forwards on the chair and getting to her knees before him. “Our arrangement is complete and I serve you always."

"Excellent. Now let's hear more of Louise."

"In what way?” Paula asked hesitantly.

"Studies Paula, this area concerns me. Are my activities holding Louise back in any way?"

"No certainly not! I think she is just finding things a little difficult on the course, that's all."

"Is there any assistance I can give her?"

"Not really. As you appreciate, she has to do it herself. If she needs help, then she will ask. The only point is, she, er ... she feels that she is a woman and like me enjoys and would like the opportunity to tease men, you know to flaunt herself, her body more."

The professor stared silently ahead of him, over Paula's head.

"That time will come for her, but first she needs to lose any thoughts of trying to control me. If she doesn't learn that then..."

"But she has! She accepts and likes what we do. She just wants to use her body more. I know it eats away at her, probably the reason for her lacking in her studies,” Paula lied, trying to further Louise's cause.

"Very well Paula; I've listened to you and will act accordingly. I do however seriously hope that she will not try to deceive me again."

"So do I!” Paula agreed and shuffled closer to the professor. “Is sir thinking of Cynthia's little cunny?” she lisped pathetically.

The professor groaned and lay back on the settee.

"Sir wants little Cynthia to pull her knickers aside,” he said, his breathing becoming heavy.

"Cynthia thought so,” Paula lisped, and began undoing his trousers. “Cynthia has been a naughty, naughty girl and for that she has to touch sir's big willy for him."

The professor closed his eyes and lay his head back to sink into his fantasy that he seemed unable to resist. The little bitch knew his weak point, he would have to take extra care from now on.

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

The professor swung the car onto the gravel area that separated the big ornate gates from the Tarmac of the small lane. Louise gripped her seat to avoid being thrown to one side of the car. He had been in this mood all morning, not a word spoken after he had ordered her into the car. Louise felt on edge. He was unpredictable when he was like this.

The professor fumbled in the glove compartment for the remote control to open the tall, wrought iron gates. Huge stone eagles sat either side of them, high up, each having its own thick brick pillar on which to rest.

A humming noise signalled that the gates were about to open, two loud clicks and the they began to swing back silently to allow them access. She felt she knew this place, it was just as Paul had described it when he had followed the professor for her. Once through the gateway, the professor turned off the gravel drive and pulled onto the grass to park beneath the lofty over-hanging trees that made the long avenue to the house seem like a darkened tunnel.

Louise stepped gingerly out onto the wet grass, at least the rain had now stopped, but the muddy areas beyond the grass looked dreadful. A fresh dampness hung in the air, freshness from the rain that had broken the long hot spell of weather, but tinged with a heaviness that made Louise feel all the more uncertain of what they were doing here. She looked round as the gates slammed finally shut. The heavy clanging sound of the huge iron gates brought to her a feeling of total confinement, even in the open air.

The great house was set in its own wooded grounds near the end of a private lane, quiet and peaceful to most, but to Louise it brought shudders of unknown terrors. Even the birds seemed to avoid this place for there wasn't a sound to be heard.

"Undress,” the professor snapped as he walked around the back of the car to stand by her side.

"What?” Louise replied in disbelief.

The professor snatched at her blouse and tore it open. “I don't have time to mess around,” he snarled as he ripped.

Louise tried to resist him, grasping his wrists but it made little difference to his strong hands and arms. He snatched at her bra.

"Okay! Okay, I'll do it. Just don't ruin the clothes,” Louise protested quickly, a little shocked as his display of force. She began to undo her skirt.

"Do you own this place as well?” she asked as casually as she could, given that her heart beat ten to the dozen and seemed to be lodged in her throat. She wanted to at least try and break the heavy and uneasy atmosphere that existed between them.

The professor ignored her, grabbing her panties and ripping them sideways to show his impatience at her slow progress. The elastic bit into the top of her thigh as he pulled harshly at the thin material, the other hand snapped her bra strap in one forceful tug.

Louise stood naked on the wet grass, her collar and her heeled shoes all that covered her nakedness. She felt wretched and so vulnerable, a feeling of utter defencelessness and helplessness come over her and she hung her head in her misery.

The professor roughly bound her wrists in front of her with a length of the same soft cord that he kept at the flat. “Too tight,” she whimpered in protest.

He ignored that. Pulling her roughly by the rope that bound her wrists together, he dragged her into the thick undergrowth that blotted out all distant vision of the estate grounds. He stopped and faced her, his nostrils flared and his breathing rapid. Louise was worried now. She had seen him annoyed before, but never like this. She trembled, not from cold but from growing fear.

He stooped to pick up a thin piece of branch that had broken and fallen from the tree. Thin and springy, it looked every bit as though it were grown specially for its intended purpose. He then sliced it down hard across her bare buttocks to test its suitability.

Louise yelped in shock at the immense pain it created, its thin width cutting rather than slapping. This was pain in the extreme, cruel and uncaring.

"Run bitch!” the professor snarled.

"Don't be silly!” Louise laughed nervously at the suggestion.

A stinging swipe with the branch sent her hips jutting forwards as she received the pain again. This she didn't like, this wasn't sexual in the least, this was cruelty. Again the branch cut through the air towards her. Louise only managed to start to run before she cried out at the searing pain as it bit into her again, catching her across the hip and side buttock as she tried to avoid it.

He was behind her as she ran, the branch slicing through the air in an effort to hit her, swinging wildly back and forth. Louise panted as she crashed through the wet undergrowth in an effort to escape the cutting whip. The rough branches of the trees scratched at her soft skin as she ploughed headlong under or through them, matting her hair and coating her body with a fine layer of damp rain mixed with broken leaves and twigs that stuck to her now perspiring body.

"God no please!” she wailed in terror as she ran, her heart pounding fast, her breasts swinging uneasily from side to side as she propelled herself forwards. Hot pain shot through her upper hip as he delivered a stinging blow to her body—tangled momentarily as she was, he had caught up with her. Again it bit into her. She screamed in pain and forced herself forwards through the thick bushes, her tender thighs red and scratched as her legs pounded her forwards in her flight. The pain that the bushes gave her was a lot less painful than the whip and she charged forwards frantically, ignoring the clawing branches.

By holding her tied hands in front of her face and by leaping now rather than stepping over obstacles she found she was getting ahead of him, her youth beginning to show the difference in physical ability. He was hitting her less now and she spurred herself on to avoid any more of the pain he was set to give her.

She was ahead now, she knew it, her sobbing turned to nervous laughter. She looked over her shoulder and could see him some way behind her now.

"Fucking bastard you are,” she taunted, turning around and running slowly backwards. “Too much for you is it, old man?"

She laughed loudly in her misery, trying to inflict upon him some of the humiliation that she had been feeling. She allowed herself a moment's pleasure; she stopped and gyrated her hips at him, taunting the puffing professor as he came near. Again laughing, she broke and ran. Mascara streaked her wet face; red blotches coated the soft white skin. Bright red welts across her backside showed the effects of the whip when it had caught her, her buttocks bounced rhythmically as she ran.

Panic rose in her now as she tried to outrun him, but he was alongside her. She weaved from side to side as she ran, he matched her twisting and turning, cutting at her thighs with the whip. Sharp and excruciating pain further drained her tiring thigh muscles. She began sobbing again and began to wish that she hadn't stopped to mock him. Again the stick whipped across her, stinging her tender breasts as it hit her from the left. It was as though he was directing her towards a particular spot. First he was on her left, and then on her right, changing as her direction changed.

Louise stumbled, sprawling head long onto the muddy grass in front of her. All hope of escape seemed to elude her at that moment and her will seemed to evaporate, she lay face down sobbing uncontrollably into the fresh wet grass, feelings of hopelessness filled her.

The professor stood over her, looking down at the long slim body that shook with emotion, his breathing hard and laboured. For some time he panted, regaining his breath, Louise steeled herself for the swishing stick and the pain that it would bring to her in her helpless state, expecting at any second to feel that terrible bite on her soft flesh.

"Defiant little bitch,” he cursed at last, still a little out of breath. “Get up!"

"Can't!” Louise sobbed. “I bloody well can't!"

The professor grasped the rope binding her wrists and dragged her forcefully after him as he walked.

"Oh! Don't! Are you mad?” Louise screamed as her tender nipples scraped along on the rough grass. Her mons was suffering similarly, as were her knees. On he dragged her to the edge of the muddy area and pushed her straight into the soft cold mud, throwing her hands roughly down and away from him, propelling her headlong forwards to stumble and land face down in the mire. Louise used her elbows to raise herself and her face out of the stinking mess, sobbing and whimpering.

"Prick, fucking idiot!” she screamed venomously at him. She gained her knees and tried to stand, a difficult manoeuvre in the slippery filth. The professor took his turn to laugh at the mud spattered screaming beauty that knelt struggling before him, most of her white body coated with thick wet grime.

Full of anger and with much effort, driven on by a burning hatred, she gained the firmer grassed area and she was able to stand. She looked wretched and pitiful as she stood shaking with anger and frustration.

The professor dropped the whip and approached her slowly. He untied her wrists and gave her a moment to rub some of the grime from her face and to gingerly stroke her tender backside before guiding her to a large tree.

His mood seemed to have changed, now he was tender and caring. She sniffed and rubbed some of her tears away from her eyes. He could do that, change, she didn't know how, but he could switch his emotions on and off so readily. One minute anger, the next moment normality and tenderness.

The professor guided her to face the tree and with her arms around the great trunk, secured both hands so that she was pressed tightly against its cold wet bark, her ample breasts squashed hard against its rough surface. He then tied her ankles in a similar fashion and stood back to view the spectacle.

It looked for all the world as though she was caught up in a passionate embrace with the great tree. Her arms and legs gripped tightly around it as though she was trying to get all of it inside her. The professor smiled at the thought.

"You continue to defy me, bitch!” His voice was calm and full of meaning.

"I haven't, really I haven't!” she protested nervously. Again his mood had changed. He grabbed two hands full of leaves and twigs from the ground beneath the tree. Coming close behind Louise, his arms circled her body and wedged themselves between her breasts and the rough bark of the tree. He pressed his hard cock into the crease of her buttocks and began massaging the dirty twigs into her breasts and nipples.

Louise cried out as the coarse twigs and soil ground into her soft tender flesh, bringing shards of raw pain surging through her. Painfully and hard he ground the gritty mixture onto her, all the time delighting in the agony that she showed.

"You deny then that you have thoughts contrary to those we agreed then, Louise? And do remember, little bitch, it was a definite agreement that we made!” Through gritted teeth, close to her ear he spat the words.

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