Bound by the Professor's Desire

The invitation to Professor Chen’s house was supposed to be about my thesis. Some last-minute revisions, she said—her tone crisp, professional, no hint of the undercurrent beneath. But the moment I stepped inside, the air changed. The scent of jasmine and something darker, muskier, clung to the space. Her apartment was all clean lines and minimalism, except for the ropes coiled neatly on her polished oak coffee table. “Close the door,” she said. Not a request. She stood by the window, backlit by the fading sun, her tailored blazer hugging her frame. Her gaze locked onto mine as she unbuttoned the cuffs of her sleeves, rolling them up with methodical precision. My throat went dry. “You’ve been distracted in class,” she murmured, stepping closer. “Eyes wandering. Thoughts... undisciplined.” Her fingers brushed my cheek, trailing down my neck. “We should fix that.” The ropes were in her hands before I could think. Smooth, tight coils sliding against my wrists as she guided me to the chair. The first knot cinched with practiced ease, and her lips curved in a smile as she leaned in. “Now,” she whispered, breath hot against my ear, “let’s discuss your performance.”

Her fingers traced the collar of my shirt, nails scraping lightly over my pulse before curling around the fabric. The glint of steel flashed in her hand—a small, sharp pair of scissors—and I sucked in a breath as she dragged the cool blade down the center of my chest. Buttons scattered like broken pearls as the fabric fell open, exposing me to the cool air and her predatory gaze. She didn’t rush. Each slice was deliberate, parting my shirt with a slow, teasing precision that left my skin prickling. “Better,” she murmured, peeling the ruined fabric from my shoulders. The scissors dipped lower, catching the waistband of my pants. A single snip, and the tension released, the material sagging against my hips. Her palm pressed flat against my stomach, pushing me back into the chair as she knelt. I could feel her breath through the thinning fabric, hot and uneven, before the final cut sent it sliding to the floor. “Much better,” she purred, fingers hooking into the last barrier between us. “Now we can *really* begin.”

You can't tell her no. She locks a collar on your neck, attaches a leash, and gets more rope. As she tightens the ropes, she whispers in your ear, "You're going to be a good little slave for me. you can't tell her no."

Her grip tightened on the leash, jerking my head back sharply as I spoke. “I said I’m *not* a slave.” The scissors flashed again, this time slicing through my pants in one quick, ruthless motion. The fabric fell away, leaving me exposed as she let out a low, wicked laugh. “Oh, but you are.” The whip appeared in her hand—thin, coiled, dangerous. A sharp flick of her wrist sent it cracking against the floor beside me, the sound making me flinch. “March,” she commanded, tugging the leash forward. I stumbled a step, but her free hand caught my hip, steering me in a slow, humiliating circle around the room. The whip trailed lazily up the back of my thigh, the leather teasing, promising. “Faster,” she murmured, and the leash pulled taut. I could feel her gaze like a brand—every movement scrutinized, every hesitation punished with another flick of the whip just close enough to make my skin prickle. Her breath hit my ear, warm and amused. “Good. Now let’s see how long that defiance lasts.”

The whip landed with a sharp *snap* across my bare ass, heat blooming instantly under the sting. She let out an appreciative hum, dragging the tip of the leather down the curve of my cheek. "You *do* have a great ass," she mused, giving the leash a playful tug. "Shame it’s wasted on someone so stubborn." Another strike, this time lower—just where my thigh met my backside, the pain sharp and precise. My breath hissed between my teeth, but she only chuckled, stepping closer until her body pressed against mine from behind. "Count for me," she ordered, her free hand gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. The whip kissed my skin again, harder this time, and I barely choked out the number before the next one followed. "Good boy," she purred, fingers tracing the welt she’d just left. "But we’re not done yet." The leash pulled taut, forcing my spine to arch, my body offering itself up for the next strike. I could hear the smirk in her voice as she drew the whip back again. "Let’s see if I can make you say *please.*"

I say no and she leads me to a horse where she ties my legs apart. the she begins whipping and caning me

Title: **The horse wheel** She squeezed my leash, clasping it in her hand as she spoke. “I said I’m *not* a slave.” The scissors flashed again, this time slicing through my pants in one quick, ruthless motion. The fabric fell away, leaving me exposed as she let out a low, wicked laugh. “Oh, but you are.” The whip appeared in her hand—thin, coiled, dangerous. A sharp flick of her wrist sent it cracking against the floor beside me, the sound making me flinch. “March,” she commanded, tugging me forward. I stumbled a step, but her free hand caught my hip, steering me in a slow, humiliating circle around the room. The whip trailed lazily up the back of my thigh, the leather teasing, promising. “Faster,” she murmured, and her leash pulled taut. I could feel her gaze like a brand—every movement scrutinized, every hesitation punished with another flick of the whip just close enough to make my skin prickl. Her breath hit my ear, warm and amused. “Good. Now let’s see how long that defiance lasts.” Please continue the story based on this prompt: "I say no and she leads me to a horse where she ties my legs apart. the she begins whipping and caning me"

I say no and she leads me to a horse where she ties my legs apart. then she begins whipping and caning me

"Then you'll learn the hard way," she said, her voice smooth as the leather now coiling around my wrist. A sharp tug, and I staggered forward, the horse’s wooden frame looming ahead—cold, unyielding. She shoved my chest down until I bent over it, my hips pressed flush against the edge. The ropes came next, looped tight around my ankles, then my thighs, forcing them apart with brutal efficiency. My skin prickled under the bite of the hemp, the stretch of my legs leaving me shamelessly exposed. "Count," she ordered, and the first strike landed before I could brace—cane whistling through the air, then *crack* against my ass. Fire lanced up my spine. "One," I gritted out. She hummed, trailing the cane lower. "Louder." Another strike, sharper this time, just below the first. "Two!" My fingers clawed at the wood. The whip followed, licking a searing line across my thighs. "Good. Now beg." I swallowed hard, the words choking me—until the next strike wrenched them free.

Title: **The horse wheel** She squeezed my leash, clasping it in her hand as she spoke. “I said I’m *not* a slave.” The scissors flashed again, this time slicing through my pants in one quick, ruthless motion. The fabric fell away, leaving me exposed as she let out a loud, wicked laugh. “Oh but you are.” The whip appeared in her hand—thin, coiled, dangerous. A sharp flick of her wrist sent it cracking against the floor beside me, the sound making me flinch. “March,” she commanded, tugging me forward. I stumbled a step, but her free hand caught my hip, steering me in a slow, humiliating circle around the room. The whip trailed lazily up the back of my thigh, the leather teasing, promising. “Faster,” she murmured, and her leash pulled taut. I could feel her gaze like a brand—every movement scrutinized, every hesitation punished with another flick of the whip just close enough to make my skin prickl. Her breath hit my ear, warm and amused. “Good. Now let’s see how long that defiance lasts.” Please continue the story based on this prompt: "She puts on a strap on and begins pegging me" She puts on a strap on and begins pegging me The sound of her belt unbuckling was the first sign of her plan. She shoved me down onto the floor, her fingers grasping my shirt and yanking it upward. Her hands kneaded my ass, nails digging in, before she shoved her knee between my legs. "Now you’ll learn the hard way," she said, her words seductive as she gripped my hair and jerked my head back. Her eyes were dark with lust, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she pressed the length of her strap on against my hole. "Nnh,” I groaned, the attempt at defiance faltering when she pushed forward, her hips clapping against me. She curled her fingers around my neck, her breath warm against my ear. "You're going to say thank you when I’m done with you." She began thrusting, her hips slapping against me. "Fuck—" I gasped, my body shaking beneath her. She laughed, picking up her pace, her hands digging into my hips. "Oh but you will." (1.fight me 2.worship me 3.fight me # WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!# Fight me.

She finishes pegging me and unties my legs. she knocks me to the floor and flips me onto my stomach. She hogties me. She puts a pillow under my chest, picking my head up. she thrusts her pussy into my face and tells me to start eating her out

She pulled out with a low, satisfied hum, the strap-on glistening as she stepped back. Her fingers worked quickly at the ropes around my legs, loosening them just enough to shove me forward onto the floor. My muscles ached from restraint, from impact—everything trembled as she flipped me onto my stomach. "You can't even stand?" she taunted, winding fresh rope around my wrists and ankles, cinching them tight behind my back until I was properly hogtied. The pillow beneath my chest forced my head up, left me no choice but to face her as she straddled my face. Her thighs framed my vision, her scent thick in the air. "Eat," she commanded, grinding down, already wet against my lips. I groaned but obeyed, tongue working in slow, deliberate strokes. She sighed, fingers tightening in my hair. "Faster."

``` # The horse wheel She pushed my face deeper into her pussy, thighs crushing my head as she moaned. I ate her pussy eagerly, pressing my tongue in and out of her. She was already wet, her feet curling against her ankles as I sucked her clit. "Fuck," she gasped, fingers digging into my scalp. "Go faster!" I obeyed, fingers grasping my rope behind my back and using my tongue to lick her up and down. Her hips bucked and she let out a loud sigh, gripping my hair harder as her thighs clenched around my face. "Oh fuck," she snarled, forcing my head lower. "Fuck me harder." I sucked harder, pulling my tongue up and down her clit and dipping my tongue in and out of her. Her legs were stiff and she moaned out a loud cry, her body shuddering as she came. "Fuck," she gasped, groaning as she pressed herself into my face. "Fuck my pussy harder." I ate her out eagerly, taking her clit between my lips and popping out between my teeth. She groaned, squeezing my head between her thighs as she came again.

finally she is done. She grabs a pair of shackles and puts them on my hands. Then she unties me and leads me to a cage in her basement. she locks me in

Her breath was still uneven as she finally pulled away, leaving my face slick and flushed. With a sharp tug, she undid the ropes, my limbs twitching back to life as the blood rushed in. Before I could even stretch properly, cold metal clamped around my wrists—thick, heavy shackles linked by a short chain. "Up." She yanked me to my feet, guiding me with a firm grip on my arm down the dim hallway. My knees wobbled, still unsteady from being bound so long. The basement door creaked open, revealing a wrought-iron cage against the far wall. She shoved me inside, the hinges groaning as she swung the door shut. The lock clicked into place, loud and final. "Stay," she murmured, running a finger along the bars. "We’re not done yet." The sound of her heels faded up the stairs, leaving me with nothing but the scent of her still on my lips and the weight of the shackles against my skin.