The Study Cell

When I was in college I remember rooms on the 3rd floor of the Library. Study cells, they were called. They were small, maybe 8×10, or so. Had a table and two to four chairs, a window looking out on the courtyard, a flat 4-pronged coat rack screwed to the concrete and totally sound-proof wall……just perfect for………….

I am waiting for you in the study room. Waiting for you to join me for lunch. I have packed us a wonderful meal, my Toy. Tender roasted chicken breast for protein. Succulent dairy cheeses, for calcium. Sweet crisp apples for vitamin C. And a light, blush wine to wash it all down. (Must make sure my Toy is fed properly.)

Quickly checking over your shoulder to make sure no one is close by, you slip into the room and press your broad back against the hardwood, swiftly closing the door; your hand turning the lock in one smooth move, barring the world from our private playroom. Your eyes meet mine for just a moment. Long enough for you to hungrily drink in the black boots… black slacks… black sweater …black eyes that command you to your knees.

“Mistress.” You whisper as your knees bend of their own volition and you take your position on the floor before me. Arms extended in front of you, forehead pressed to the carpet, ass in the air, knees, and ankles together. You await your Mistress’ instructions.

I am deeply pleased and my tone reflects that pleasure. “At ease, my Toy.” Immediately you rise to your knees, eyes lowered still, but back erect, arms behind your back, hands clasped. When I extend my small, well-manicured hand to you, you take it in your larger, masculine palm and gently, reverently press your lips to the back of my fingers, enjoying the tips of my long ruby painted nails as they tease the inside of your wrist.

“My Mistress. I am honored that you have joined me for lunch, Ma’am.”

“Mmmmm….” ruffling your hair, “As you should be, my Favored One.” Nuzzling my hand with your head, you feel my fingers entwine in your hair. I love the softness of your hair, silky and sensuous against my palm. I tug on your hair, forcing you to look up at me. Piercing eyes meet yours. You know what is wanted, I hardly need to voice it, but I do anyway. Quietly, yet commandingly. “Disrobe.”

Watching you peel out of your layers of winter clothing; sweater… t-shirt… jeans… amuses me. So many dynamics to this meeting. You, in a hurry, you have precious little time on your lunch break, and yet…you know my rules. Disrobing is to be a slow, sensuous, titillating act. Designed to teasingly reveal and seductively stimulate….ah, but now you are stuck halfway in and halfway out of your jeans, having forgotten to remove your shoes first. (Mistress covers her mouth in a delicate attempt to hide her grin.)

Amused by your awkwardness in this ongoing training to become my personal Chippendale, I am secretly proud of your efforts. You have been working hard, on your own time, to master the art of stripping. I remember how we searched together on the Internet for appropriate music for you to practice with. And how pleased you were to present me with a copy of the music CD you burned, so that Mistress could listen to the CD precisely at 9:00 pm, every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday evening, the exact same time that you are at home practicing. I smile thinking of how you diligently watched videos of male dancers that I provided for you. Memorizing moves and mimicking dance steps, all to please your Mistress, and yet, embarrassed by being forced to watch other men perform. Such wickedly contradicting emotions! You love the attention of your Mistress. Of feeling her power over you. Her dominance and control make you feel secure and safe. Yet she takes you places you have never been before. She explores areas of your psyche that have remained hidden and well guarded. She strips you down to just the sexual animal and feeds the beast within you. Yet, at the same time, she nurtures and comforts, educates, and refines. She strengthens the Man.

Resisting the temptation to praise you I pull you back into focus with one word. “Inspect.” The command is spoken softly, yet firmly and with conviction. It has an immediate effect on you. You take your position in front of me. Hands clasped behind your head, elbows back, forcing your well-developed chest forward, accentuating the rippling muscles. Mistress can hardly keep her hands to herself, but strong she must be and strong she is. My foot nudges yours. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Stand straight and tall.” I command. You adjust your stance, blushing brightly as your cock and balls dangle freely between your thighs. I know that you are embarrassed by your nakedness, exposed for all the world to see, should that door behind you suddenly fly open!

Cupping your strong manhood in my soft, warm hand, I lean in and tenderly kiss you. My tongue presses your lips, urging you to open to me. To accept my dominance over you and to give your submission to me. Eagerly you comply, taking my marauding tongue and sucking on it, with a hunger that mere food will not satisfy. Slowly I back you to the wall. Our lips still locked, our tongues still dancing. My hand still owning you.

You are barely aware of the transition. Your mind concentrating on the wild sensations coursing through your brains. One brain engorging itself with hot, pleasurable, pulsating lust as the other brain drains itself and readies to submit to the wildest of temptations.

Running my hand along the length of your arm, my fingers wrap gently around your wrist and draw it upwards. Immune to conscious thought, your body follows my unspoken direction and in the space of just 3 minutes I have you secured by thin, but sturdy, rope to the coat rack. I open my large carryall and extract a collapsible spreader bar and secure it between your ankles. You are now ready for whatever may be in store for you. And oh, what I have in store for you, my Toy.

I hear a startled gasp from you as I pull a blindfold from my purse. You are not fond of being …left in the dark…nevertheless, I place the blindfold over your eyes and check to make sure that it is snug, but will not give you a headache. (Something else is beginning to ache, though…yes, my Toy?)

In your imposed darkness, your body splayed against the wall, you feel yourself giving over to the need you have deep within you. The need that cannot be ignored, no matter how hard you try. The need to be possessed. To be owned and used. Released of conscious thought and responsibility for your actions. The need to be enslaved by One who knows your body, mind and soul better than you do.

“We must feed your body, my Toy. Proper maintenance is so very important.” A strip of roasted chicken is placed against your lips. Hungrily you suck it in and begin to chew. “I hope you are having a good day here at work.” I offer pleasantly, much as if we were seated at the table behind me having a simple, romantic interlude.

“Yes, Ma’am.” I am pleased that you are being so mindful of your training. Seeking only when a question is directed at you. A morsel of cheese is pressed between your lips.

“People being pleasant with you today, Dear?” A bite of chicken. My arm brushes gently across your belly, the softness of my cashmere sweater caresses your flesh. It pleases me to see your smooth skin prickle in response.

“Yes.” A breath of a whisper.

“Yes, what, Toy?” Sternness edges the hypnotic swell of my voice. I know that you are slowly entering your place of submission, your “sub space”, but properness is required at all times. My hand wraps firmly and dominantly around your balls. “Answer properly, please.”

“Yes, M-m…Ma’am.” Nothing you can do, you cannot protect yourself. And in a strange, bizarre way, you do not want to protect yourself. You want to free yourself. Free yourself to enjoy the erotic feelings submission brings you. Your mind sinks further into submission, as your cock grows harder in anticipation.

The warmth of my hand possessing you is powerful. Fingers flex gently, rhythmically, in beat with the pulsating electricity flowing through your shaft. Desire rises strong and overwhelming in you. Without thinking you thrust your hips forward, forcing my hand to stroke you. Your body begging me for release. Instantly my hand releases you. And a frustrated groan escapes your lips. Your cock juts straight and full from your loins. Quivering and pulsating, it is such a beautiful symbol of Man, but…

My hand slaps your cock hard. Startled, your yelp echoes in the small soundproof room.

“Silence, Toy!” I hiss in your ear, at the same time grabbing your balls, squeezing. “Or you will get worse.” Biting your lower lip, you accept your punishment. “You know you are to remain still, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress…I-I’m sor…so so-sorry, p-please.., Mistress, please f-forgive me.” The words tumble from your lips, as you struggle within to keep from struggling outwardly against the hand that grips you. I hold you a few moments longer, to ensure your compliance, then release you. Abruptly I return to pleasant conversation.

“I will be having a dinner party tonight, my Toy.” More chicken is presented to you, followed by a sip of wine, a bit of which dribbles down your chin, onto your bare chest. “You are available to cook for me?”

“Of course, Mistress! I am always available for you.” You answer hastily, partly because you know this is not a question of availability, but of confirmation. A formality really, since we both know you WILL cook for me, as well as do anything else I command, but your desire to please me is in a heightened state right now, especially in light of your dismal performance just moments ago.

My tongue licks at the wine trails along your upper torso, and I feel the shiver that races along your flesh, prickling the smooth contours of your chest. Flicking my tongue over your erect nipple elicits a moan from you. My teeth bearing down on your tender bud produces a low, desire filled groan. I smile, nuzzling my lips against the brownish puckered circle, my breath, hot and wickedly tormenting washing over you. Your breathing becomes rapid, anticipatory. Watching you, my hands playing over your flat belly, teasing the skin with my nails, my fingers work down to your cock. Long and thick, it bobs rhythmically as it juts from your bare pelvis. I squat in front of you, eye level with my favorite toy and without touching your penis with my hands, I lick the precum from the tip. The shudder that tears through your body attests to the eminence of your climax.

I stand and you sense me moving away. The closeness you felt, the warmth from my body so near yours leaves you. The denial of orgasm pushes at your mind, a small whimper escapes you as you tug at the binds that secure you to the rack. “Mistress?” Desire whispers. Nay, desire begs…

“Yes, my Toy?” My tone is calm, unassuming. We are two people enjoying a picnic. You can hear me rummaging through a paper bag. You wonder, but reality is forcing its way into the back of your mind. You cringe, the first little kernels of self-consciousness, more, self-awareness, push at your mind.

“Mistress, I could be fired….”, you begin, but your voice falters. A different sound has caught your attention. The husky laugh of the One you have vowed allegiance to, followed by the clicking rasp of a zipper opening. A zipper from an article of clothing? Perhaps Mistress’ linen slacks? Rustling-Mistress removing her clothes? IN PUBLIC?? As your mind wraps around these thoughts, desperately searching for cognizant understanding, you sense that Mistress has suddenly moved close to you again. Her presence is very near, her scent very strong. Yet she utters not a sound. Silence fills the study cell.

You sense her closeness with every fiber of your body. Like radar, your senses zero in on her. Your ears strain to hear her; your eyes yearn to look upon her. You long to feel HER. To touch her. To be touched by her. Yet she keeps her distance. She hovers just out of reach, just beyond the cloak of darkness she imposed on you in the beginning. Darkness surrounds you. Silence deafens you. Submission embraces you. Her Dominance humbles you.

A rustling, off to your left, catches your attention. You hear a metallic click, followed by a swift, whispery swoosh, and then a louder click reverberates close to your left ear. Your blinded mind categorizes the sounds: the sound of something locking into place. And then sound ceases to exist. Taking its place is a sensation. Pure, terrorizing, icy sensation. Heart hammering wildly against its bone cage, your mind recognizes the unmistakable cold, hard edge of Mistress’ switchblade. Bone-chilling cold steel lies silently against warm quivering flesh.

“Mistress…” comes the fearful, barely audible, whispered plea. “I’m at work….”

The razor-sharp blade and you KNOW how sharp it is because YOU sharpened it just last night at Mistress’ insistence, scrape lightly over your sensitive nipple. In spite of trusting Mistress to do you no harm, you shudder at the sensation. Tender erect flesh is teased by the tip of the knife blade. It digs into you, pressing your nipple inwards. You whimper, in spite of yourself.

“Tsk, tsk, Toy. Such an unmanly display…” A throaty chuckle teases your ear. “I dare say, my precious Toy, dessert will be served….” The knife moves away and you hear it slice through something. Immediately the crisp, clean scent of apple fills your nostrils.

“On… your….knees, my Toy.” The knife slices through the ropes restraining you. It is sudden and without warning, catching you off guard and being bound still to the spreader bar, you stumble forward knees and hands hitting the floor as you come crashing down on all fours, the carpet rubbing them harshly. Head lowered, for you know you have disappointed Mistress, you wait in the proper position for her determination of your fate. Needles of dread prick your mind as random thoughts race through your mind. Surely she would not punish you here–you tend to be a bit vocal during paddling sessions–and to be caught at work…no, she would not change that.

As if reading your mind, Mistress chuckles again. “You will be punished at home, Toy. So that you do not further embarrass yourself with your unmanly whimpering.” I release the ankle cuffs and remove the spreader bar. A chair scrapes on the carpeting. You sense the nearness of me once again. You can smell the apple fragrance permeating the room, but something else now underlies it. Something stronger, more earthy, more…feminine.

I have seated myself, bare bunned, on the straight-backed chair directly in front of you. Grasping your hair, I force your face between my ample thighs. Crisp, fresh apple scent mingles with the scent of hot, raw desire. “Serve me, my Toy. It is dessert time.” You know what is expected and you go to it with a flourish. Tonguing my wet pussy lips, your mind oblivious to the fact that you are in your place of employment, on your knees, naked and fully exposed, licking the pussy of the one woman who controls you right down to your sex. I love your worship techniques. You are taking to your training in that area quite well, and I barely have time to nibble on an apple wedge, before you have me climaxing in the first of several mini orgasms. As I lean back, hand-holding you at bay so I can catch my breath, the alarm on your watch begins to beep. Our lunchtime is over and you must return to work. Our hot, little 50 minutes concludes.

I remove the blindfold from your eyes and you blink as your pupils adjust, coming into focus just inches from your Mistress’ sweet pussy. A little something for you to think about as you finish out the day.

“Come and kiss your Mistress, Toy.” The command is soft, yet firm. I take you in my arms as our lips press together, tongues dancing and swirling, my nectar on your lips, commingling with the apple flavor on my own. God, you are good enough to eat! I think but refrain from feeding your ego at this time. As I release you and motion for you to dress, I begin to go over the instructions for the coming evening.

“You will need to go straight home from work tonight. I trust you have no plans for after work?” I stop and watch you wiggle into your tight jeans….::Smile::…zipping them closed over your still bulging manhood is not so easy!

“No, Mistress, I will go straight home after work.” You answer softly. I slip into my own clothing as you begin to tidy up the room and clean up our lunch things.

“Good. I want you to shower, shave, and be at my place by 6:00 pm. I have left your clothing and other necessary…items…on your bed, which, by the way, you did not make up this morning, did you?”

“No, Mistress, I overslept.” Hmmm, I do so love to see you blush when caught not keeping up with your assigned routines. And I KNOW you are thinking of the consequences that await you for all these infractions that you have racked up. I smile sweetly.

“We will deal with that at another time, Toy, though do trust that I WILL deal with it.”

“Yes, Mistress.” You swallow hard. Humbleness, and memorization, still a bit hard for you. “I know that I have displeased you, Ma’am. I deserve to be punished for my inability to control myself and for my lazy attitude.” You struggle to remember the last words of your penance mantra. “I will submit my body to your punishing instrument.”

“Is that all of it, Toy?” I prompt when you pause too long.

“I need and accept your guidance and discipline, Mistress. Please bring this slave to his knees and impress upon him correction to his slovenly ways.”

“And I will, Toy, trust me…I will. Now regarding the dinner, I will have purchased the groceries needed to prepare the meal, and you will be assisted in the serving of the meal by Mistress Anna’s sub, as well as Mistress Laura’s new sub. You understand, yes, my Toy?”

“Yes, Mistress.” It is nearly time for you to return to work and glancing nervously at your watch, you move towards the door. “I understand.”

My body blocks your escape, backing you once again against the wall. Before you can stop me, my hand is down the front of your pants stroking your still rock hard cock. My mouth covers yours, my tongue entering your mouth with a force that takes your breath away. When I break the kiss and release your cock, I whisper seductively….”Come prepared to stay the weekend, my Favored One.”

You are sent back to your work desk, located out in the open for all to see, with thoughts of being with Mistress, at her mercy and full command, for two full days, and sporting a huge, monstrous hardon. And you can’t help but wonder if you will be allowed to release during this session. And you know that you will beg for it………….