A Lesson in Humility Chapter 1: Submission 101

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, clinging as it did 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. Feeling his cock start to stiffen he 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 staring 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, and 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 tip, 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 its viscosity it was as it slid slowly down his gullet.

“Lick my palm clean, James.” He did, tasting that same bitterness mixed 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. 



 

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