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Doctor Ashford's Student
#nsfwtwt #domme #sub #chastity #edging subby POV, first person
A few days a week I have the privilege of working directly under Dr Ashford. She's my PhD tutor, although my duties extend into being her assistant, as well as a few other things.
#nsfwtwt #domme #sub #chastity #edging subby POV, first person
A few days a week I have the privilege of working directly under Dr Ashford. She's my PhD tutor, although my duties extend into being her assistant, as well as a few other things.
One of my particularly important duties is to bring her coffee at 10am on the dot. Because some idiot knocked the sugar all over the floor of the executive kitchen, I had to sprint to go and find some more. Guess who was a little under three minutes late as a result.
I click open the door to Doctor Ashford's office and begin my apology. "I'm so sor-"
"You're two minutes 56 seconds late, you know I don't appreciate tardiness," she speaks without looking up from her paperwork.
"You're two minutes 56 seconds late, you know I don't appreciate tardiness," she speaks without looking up from her paperwork.
“How long has it been pet?” You were barely aware of their voice, amongst the pounding pleasure that thrummed through your body. “Minutes? Hours? Do you even care anymore?” You let out a soft moan at their caress, not stopping your hand’s motion.
They laughed. “I don’t think you’re capable of caring anymore. All you can do now is feel the pleasure as it overwhelms your mind, sweeps away your thoughts. Leaves you empty. Ready, for me. Doesn’t it feel so good?” It did. It felt incredible.
Each motion of your hand felt like you were letting something of nature bloom through you. Taking your energy. Taking your power, and storing it, ready. And then there was their hand, wandering, almost causally, across your bare skin. Water feeding the roots of your pleasure.
“Okay, and that’s my problem why?” Your hypnotist smiled down at you, mischief etched into every line of their face.
“But – but -” Your words were silenced by a single finger, pressed to your lips.
“But what, you want to cum? Is that it?” They yawned.
“But – but -” Your words were silenced by a single finger, pressed to your lips.
“But what, you want to cum? Is that it?” They yawned.
You nodded, and they laughed. “Well too bad, toy. You agreed to give control over your orgasms to me. And I’m deciding that you don’t get to cum. Not today.” They stood up from the chair, and as you knelt on the ground before them, you felt their power over you solidify.
“No, you don’t get to cum. But you know what you can do?” Their hand grabbed your chin, pulling you up to look into their eyes. Their gorgeous eyes.
“What’s can I do?” You asked.
They eyes were locked onto yours. “You can begin to drop, can’t you?”
“What’s can I do?” You asked.
They eyes were locked onto yours. “You can begin to drop, can’t you?”
“Hey, toy, stop moving. I know it feels good, but if I want you to squirm, I’ll tell you, okay?” You tried to focus, to distract yourself from the pleasure they were delivering to you that made your toes curl. But you couldn’t, not as their mouth descended once again.
It felt so good, and sure, their suggestion to be so much more sensitive than normal wasn’t helping, but even without that, they were always capable of making you feel pure ecstasy. And then the sensation was retreating, and they were looking up the bed at you, brow furrowed.
“What did I say toy?” Their voice was full of menace. Their eyes were locked on yours.
“To- To- To stop moving.” You tried to look away from their eyes, in shame, but you couldn’t, no matter how much you tried.
“To- To- To stop moving.” You tried to look away from their eyes, in shame, but you couldn’t, no matter how much you tried.
“And pleasure feels good, doesn’t it puppet?” You nodded, mind moving slowly. “Yes, in fact, pleasure feels so good that it makes it hard to think. The more your mind fills with pleasure, the less space there is for thinking.” Your mind was spinning, spiralling in ecstasy.
And they were right, it was getting harder to think, all you could do was focus on the pleasure. All you could do was focus on the pleasure you felt as their hands explored your body. Each movement, each gentle brush and touch wiping away another thought.
“Does it feel good puppet?” They asked, one hand coming up to gently brush down your cheek.
You stared at them, trying to find words. It was so difficult. “Y-y-yes.” You smiled, softly, as the pleasure rode around your brain.
You stared at them, trying to find words. It was so difficult. “Y-y-yes.” You smiled, softly, as the pleasure rode around your brain.
You couldn’t cum, not whilst you were in this subspace they had created for you. But you could feel pleasure. So as you touched yourself, and they cooed into your ear, looking at you in such a wonderfully controlling way, your mind was beginning to buckle.
To unravel under the strain of the pleasure, which never lessened, only increased. It was like a ratchet, that was moved and pulled every time they said “pleasure”.
And they had designed your mind to be like this.
And they had designed your mind to be like this.
Unable to cum, but able to feel so much pleasure. So much ecstasy, that all you could focus on was the feeling of your hands, their eyes, and their voice. So much pleasure. Until, finally, with one word from them, the pleasure spiked, too high, too much, you were cumming.
