BDSM At the Professor's Mercy

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The Reaction​

Natalie's biggest fear was that someone would recognize her in these photos. But that problem was solved by the use of a thin mask. The mask was small and only covered her eyes and nose, which was good enough to maintain her anonymity.

She struck different poses for the photographer. It was a classy shoot with a submissive tone. Ropes lightly bound her petite and slender body, which was covered in a thin black dress. Her wrists were tied together and there were shots of her laying on the floor.

It was an artsy shoot by a semi-famous local photographer, who would sell the portraits at different art galleries.

"Beautiful," the photographer said, snapping away. "Turn around. On your stomach. Good. Roll over."

It was the most fun Natalie had in a long time. She rolled over like a bondage puppy. Then she rolled back. There was a slight smile on her face, living out her fantasy. The photographer noticed Natalie's smile, and he smiled back, snapping more pictures in the process.

"I think we're done for today," he said, putting the camera down. "You were excellent."

She stood up and walked towards him with her tied wrists pointed forward.

"I only do what you tell me," she smiled.

The photographer untied her wrists, finally freeing her from the bondage ropes. There were small red marks.

"Sorry about that. Maybe it was a little too tight."

She shook her head and removed the mask. "Don't worry about it. I think I was pulling too hard. It'll fade away soon."

"Tough girl."

"Speaking of being tough, is there any chance for extra work?"

"It depends," the photographer replied. "There's an upcoming art show in a few weeks. If your portraits sell, I'd love to hire you for more pictures."

She smiled, "I look forward to it."

After getting dressed, Natalie went straight to her dorm. There was still plenty of school work to be done. The most challenging class of the semester was her creative writing course, which focused on crafting full-length stories.

That was the class she wanted to work hardest on because it gave her an outlet to write. She loved writing. And she wanted to become a novelist someday. Most importantly, it gave her a platform to begin writing her very first novel under the tutelage of a prominent professor.

It was a professor whom she had deeply admired long before attending his class. It was a professor who had written several books, which Natalie had loved, and grew up reading. Those old books were influential to Natalie's writing style, and she was in awe of the chance to be taught by him.

She finished typing the one-page outline of her planned story while sitting on her bed. She needed to send it to the professor before their upcoming meeting.

After spending hours typing away and thinking, Natalie's trance-like-state was broken when there was a knock on the wall. It was her gorgeous roommate and best friend since high school, dressed in only a towel with her hair freshly dried after the shower.

"Still typing your stuff?" Becca asked.

"Oh, right, yeah I am."

"So how did your photography thing go today?"

Natalie gave a thumbs up. "Pretty darn good."

"I'd love to see the new set."

"Hold on, let me check."

Natalie quickly opened her gmail account and saw a few emails. There was an email from the photographer which she opened and downloaded the contents. There were 38 images total.

"Sure, I'll send them right over," Natalie said. "Let me know what you think. Personally, I think it's pretty hot stuff. I like it better than the stuff I did last time."

Of course, Natalie valued Becca's opinion on the matter, because Becca had done plenty of modeling work herself, and Becca was also planning to work in the fashion industry someday.

Becca dropped her towel, getting naked. "I'll have a look later. Did you shower yet? That party is in an hour."

"Oh shit."

Becca put on a bra. "One of those days, eh?"

"Darn it, hold on."

Natalie quickly opened her email and typed a message to the professor. She attached the Word document then sent it. Then Natalie opened another email and typed a brief message to Becca. She attached the 38 bondage pictures and sent the email.

Then Natalie turned off her laptop and hopped out of bed. She walked passed her half-naked roommate and went inside the small bathroom, which was still kind of steamy since Becca had just finished using it. She stripped, then stepped inside the shower stall under a cascade of hot water.

While she washed and shampooed her hair, Natalie thought about her upcoming writing project and meeting with the professor.

She thought about how she would explain her paper. How she would present it. How she was going to express herself. The main points she wanted to convey so that the professor would understand her thoughts, and hopefully, provide her with much needed approval and insight.

She also thought about trivial things, like what to wear. She wanted to look classy, but sassy, without sending the wrong signals. She wanted to look intelligent without being too uptight. She didn't want to look too simple either, or trashy, or else she would lose the professor's respect. She needed to look just right. Maybe she would ask Becca for her opinion later.

Natalie turned off the water, dried her hair and went back to the dorm room, where Becca was already dressed, using her own laptop.

"What do you think about the pics?" Natalie asked, looking inside her closet.

"You mean your paper?"

"No, my pics, obviously."

"Well, you accidentally sent me your outline," Becca informed. "Looks pretty good. I'm not much of a reader, but I'd buy this book."

Natalie froze. Her eyes widened and her stomach sank. She rushed over to her laptop and checked her gmail account. She checked her sent mail, to see the message she sent to the professor. Then she saw the attachment.

Oh god.

She cupped a hand over her mouth when she realized that she accidentally sent the professor the 38 bondage photos.

"My...life...is...ruined," Natalie moaned, collapsing on her bed, wanting to cry in the process.

"Holy shit, did you just send those pictures to your professor?" Becca laughed in a self-amused way.

Natalie buried her face in the pillow. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Look on the brightside. If he's an average guy, he'll probably give you an A for the class. The downside is, you'll probably have to suck his dick. Unless he's sexy, then it'll be hot. You know, the whole professor/student thing."

"I'm meeting with him tomorrow. God, I hope he doesn't report me for trying to solicit sex or something. I might get kicked out of school."

"There's a rule against sending the professor bondage pics?" Becca asked.

"I don't know."

"Well, you showered super fast. Maybe he didn't see it yet. Why don't you call him and tell him to avoid your email?"

Natalie sat upright, tears forming in her eyes. "You're a genius."

She dug through the course syllabus for the professor's cell number, but it wasn't there, unlike some other professors.

The only course of action would be to pray that he hadn't seen it yet. She sent another warning message in advance.

She sent an email with the heading: PLEASE DON'T OPEN THE OTHER EMAIL

Professor,

This is Natalie. We have an appointment tomorrow morning. I sent you another email a few moments ago. I sincerely hope you haven't opened it. If not, please don't. If you have, I am so very sorry. It was an accident.

I hope this doesn't jeopardize our relationship. I still plan on seeing you tomorrow to discuss the writing project.

best wishes,
Natalie

Once the message was sent, Natalie crashed back down on the bed. She realized that her towel had opened and her left breast was partially exposed, but she didn't care.

She still had a party to get to. But she had no idea if she could ever have fun again.

Just before the early morning meeting, Natalie settled on her wardrobe. Khaki pants, a buttoned down white shirt, and a dark vest. Casual yet classy. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and she wore minimal makeup. The last thing she wanted to do was give off erotic vibes, especially after that horrendous email mistake, which the professor didn't bother replying too.

She went to his office in the humanities building. When she got there, she saw the professor sitting behind his desk using the computer. It slightly peeved Natalie that the professor was on his computer, yet he never bothered to send her a reply email. Oh well, she thought, saves them the awkwardness.

She gave a small knock by the door to get his attention.

"Right on time," the professor said. "Close the door and have a seat."

The professor was much older than her. Maybe in his early 50's, twice her age. He was fairly handsome, with a stern and strong demeanor. There was an air of intelligence about him, which made it obvious that he was a very smart person.

She closed the door and sat down on the chair in front of the professor's desk. She sat upright with perfect posture, while the email snafu still lingered. She wondered if he would address it or not. So far, that didn't seem to be the case.

Instead, the professor placed a piece of paper on the desk. It was a print-out of Natalie's assignment, with handwritten notes all over it.

"I'm very old school," he said. "I prefer holding the paper and commenting with a pen. Shall we get started now?"

She nodded. "Sure."

"I'll get to the point, I like your ideas. The story of a young woman finding her way in life has been done a lot, but this is a fresh twist. If I remember correctly, on the first day of the course, you said that you wanted to become a novelist, correct?"

She nodded. "That's right."

"And you said that you wanted to turn this into your first novel which you hope to publish someday, is that also correct?"

"That's absolutely right. And I haven't told you this, but I'm actually a big fan of your books. They're inspirational to me. And I value your feedback."

"I appreciate the kind words," he said in a calm tone. "I'm here for you, and all my other students. That's largely why I became a professor, to pass my knowledge along, whatever I have, to help the next generation of writers."

Natalie stared at him with a mixture of concern and anguish, like she was deeply humiliated just sitting there.

"Is something wrong?" the professor asked.

She mustered her courage. "Did you look at my email last night?"

"Obviously I did. We're discussing your writing assignment, aren't we?"

She felt like an idiot. "Not that email. I meant the other one, you know, the accident. There was an attachment. Did you download it?"

"It's my job to look at whatever students send me. So yes, when I saw the attachment, I opened it."

"You saw my pictures?" Natalie asked rhetorically.

"The heading of your email was that it was your assignment. I'm not a mind reader, Natalie. Yes, I saw your pictures. But don't be embarrassed."

She breathed a short sigh of relief. "So you're not disappointed with me?"

"Why would I?"

"That your student, who goes to a prestigious university, would pose for pictures like that."

"I don't judge people for exploring," he replied. "That's what life's all about, isn't it? Finding out what you like, and don't like, then making decisions."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Thanks for not being an asshole," she said. "Excuse my language, but I'm sure other professors at this university would have me expelled. Either that, or they would demand oral sex or something."

"Actually, I was just about to request your services."

She was shocked, "Really?"

"I'm only joking. You're probably right though. Other professors may have interpreted that email as a sexual solicitation. But I'm not like other professors. I understand that people make mistakes with emails."

"What about the pictures themselves?" she asked. "Do you consider that a mistake on my part?"

"Do you?"

Natalie sat upright and defiant. "No, I don't. I'm proud of the pictures I've taken. I think they're beautiful and artful."

"If that's what you think, who am I to judge?"

"I'm glad we've gotten that sorted out," she joked in relief.

"Why don't you incorporate this into your novel? You've hinted at themes of sexuality for the story you plan to write, so why not incorporate some of this? You don't have to go into specifics, but discuss the self-exploration."

"Honestly, I don't know if I can."

"Are you experienced with the lifestyle in those pictures?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Why, if I may ask?"

Natalie thought for a moment. "I've never found anyone I could trust. I mean, having sex is one thing, but the submissive thing is something else. I feel that it's much more intimate and should be shared only with the right person."

"That's why I like you. You're smart, talented, and strong. There are a lot of jerks out there. But a true dom/sub relationship is based on trust and affection. The Dom must respect the submissive. There must be trust. Only then can a submissive be completely free to let herself go."

A smile crept across her face. "How do you know all this?"

"I don't normally discuss this, but I was a Dom for several women in my lifetime. The women were very submissive and gave me total obedience. In return, I took care of them, emotionally and sexually. Those were relationships based on trust and a mutual understanding."

For a moment, Natalie was in awe. She expected the office appointment to be painfully awkward. Instead, what she got was a sexually enlightened professor who seemingly understood her.

"Okay," she said. "I think you're right. It makes sense to incorporate some of these things into my writing project. Not the whole bondage stuff, obviously, but the self-reflection and discovery."

The professor folded the paper. "Then you won't need all my notes, since the story has changed. But take it with you. I suggest finding a new story for the second half of your novel, along with a new ending. Many students find this course to be an eye-opener. They learn things about themselves during the writing process. That's what I love about teaching."

A sense of disappointment came over Natalie when the professor put the folded paper in front of her.

"Is our meeting over?" she asked.

"Yes. You obviously want to change parts of your story, so my comments there are basically useless."

"Can we meet again? I still wanted to talk to you about writing advice."

"We can discuss writing once you've got a handle on your plot."

A sense of confidence and newfound understanding came over Natalie. It was like an epiphany. Her love for bondage and writing was seemingly coming together for the very first time.

She nodded. "Thank you, for everything. You're the best."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're planning something?"

"Just my first novel," she smiled.

"I meant what I said. I like the fact that you're cautious about your fantasies and your body. If I can teach you only one thing, it's not to do anything stupid with your body. Respect yourself. That's the most important thing I can teach a young woman like yourself."

In that moment, Natalie felt something for the professor. She felt it in her mind, heart, and between her legs. She knew it. And the professor realized what she must have been thinking.

The Pictures

A few weeks had passed. With the success at the art gallery, Natalie was asked to return for more photographs, and she gladly accepted. It was her chance to escape from the stresses of life and indulge in a fantasy. Plus, the money was nice.

In the dressing room, she wore a tiny black outfit, which consisted of a leather bra and panties. She wore black boots too. Finally, and most importantly, came the small black face mask. God forbid anyone recognizes her.

As the outfit was worn and the mask was on, Natalie felt a rush of excitement as she prepared for the shoot. In a weird way, she understood the needs that addicts had. This was her addiction. Something she craved emotionally and physically.

When she was ready, she stepped into the studio where the photographer was preparing his camera. The lights, props, and backgrounds were already in place.

They made their usual small talk and banter. Natalie expressed her gratitude and happiness that the other portraits had sold well. The photographer noted that it was all thanks to Natalie.

"Shall we continue where we left off?" the photographer asked, holding the camera in hand, with the strap around his neck.

"Actually, I'd like to try something a little different today."

He seemed open to it. "Anything in mind?"

"Not really. I don't know. But I'm feeling a little more adventurous."

He thought for a moment. "How about more skin? I know you've always been apprehensive about that, but more skin usually helps with sales."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Natalie pulled the left side of her top downwards, to partially reveal her small pink nipple.

"How about that?" she asked.

He remained professional about it. "We can do that. Sure. How about the bondage? Same thing as before?"

"Hands behind my back this time. On my knees. I like the vulnerable look that it'll have."

"Was there something in your coffee today?" he jested.

"Let's just say I'm a woman on a mission."

"Whatever you say. I like that idea. Let's begin with that. I'll tie your wrists."

The photographer lowered his camera, letting it hang around his neck. Then he got the ropes. Natalie turned around and put her hands behind her back. Before the ropes could be tied, she stopped him.

"Wait, hold on really quick."

Natalie reached forward and pulled her top down, exposing both of her small pink nipples. Then she swiftly brought her hands behind her back again.

"Okay, now I'm ready," she said.

The photographer tied the rope and formed a knot, binding Natalie's hands, which gave her a strange feeling of satisfaction, especially as her nipples were exposed.

"Now we're ready to go. Give me a pose. Since you're feeling adventurous today, I'll let you lead. Do whatever you want."

Natalie faced the photographer, who took a few steps back and began taking pictures. It made her feel strange that a man was taking pictures of her bare nipples, while her hands were bound. It was so exhilarating and she felt a zing between her legs and tingly sensations through her nipples.

There wasn't much she could do with her arms. And she was used to receiving instructions while modeling. So the start was a bit awkward. Slowly she got the hang of it, moving her shoulders, hips, and feet, to form different poses.

Then she got down to her knees. A vulnerable pose. Different shots were taken from different angles.

She laid on her side. More shots were taken.

She rolled over, pressing her stomach and nipples onto the floor. Shots were taken of her butt.

Then she rolled to her back, hands bound behind her, nipples pointing up in the air. More shots were taken and she felt an adrenaline rush.

Thank goodness for the mask, which allowed her to preserve her identity when these pictures would be posted in various art galleries, seen by god knows how many people.

Exhibitionism was a strange thrill to her. But not like submission.

After a quick masturbation session in her dorm room, Natalie washed her hands and got comfortable on her bed. She sat upright with her back against the pillow, and the laptop on her lap.

Fresh from the photoshoot, she was armed with new emotions and experiences, which was perfect for an amateur writer like herself.

She opened the word processor and continued her writing assignment, which was also going to be the foundation for her first novel. It already had several pages done.

As Natalie wrote, she came to an obstacle. She wondered how much of her own personal life she would use. She wondered how far the character in the story will choose to explore. And explore what?

Natalie's fantasy was sexual submission. That's what she always craved. That's what she wanted.

But putting that in the book would allow her family and friends to know her inner thoughts, because they'd all be reading it. They'd wonder if Natalie was writing a purely fictional story, or if she was expressing her own desires and using the book as an outlet.

It was the writer's dilemma.

Luckily, she knew just the man to speak with about this.

She opened her gmail account and saw that she had two emails. One from a friend, the other from the photographer who had just emailed the latest set of pictures they had made together earlier that day.

But that wasn't important at the moment. She composed a message with the direct heading: Can we meet?

Hi Professor,

I hope you're doing well. Progress on my writing assignment has been steady, but I've hit a roadblock in terms of storyline.

More specifically, I'm struggling with how much of my own personal life should be included. And, yes, I'm referring to the topic we discussed in your office a few weeks ago. I'm sure you understand how I must feel about this.

Let me know!

- Nattie

The message was sent, then she opened the email from her friend and sent a quick response.

Lastly, she opened the email from the photographer, with a brief note along with an attachment, which had 68 pictures total.

She downloaded the file and briefly looked through the images. It was surreal seeing herself like that. Hands bound behind her back. The mask which concealed her identity. And her nipples exposed.

The shots of her on her knees and back were titillating. Erotic art enthusiasts would definitely purchase those pictures for the next round of art shows. They were brilliantly done, Natalie thought.

She briefly wondered if she should send those same pictures to the professor. Maybe he'd like to see them too. He's obviously understanding of Natalie's choices, which she deeply appreciated. Plus, those pictures were semi-relevant to her writing assignment, since it was an expression of her own sexuality and exploration.

Natalie composed another email with a short heading and a short message to the professor. She attached the file with all 68 images she had taken earlier that day. She would be sending her professor more bondage photos, only this time, it would be on purpose, not by accident like before.

Her finger lingered over the 'send' function of the email. She hesitated. Then she deleted the email entirely.

What would the professor think if she sent him another set of bondage photos? Probably that she was initially being a tease, she thought. Or that she was trying to seduce him in a desperate way.

An email came. It was a reply from the professor:

Sure, I'm free tomorrow morning at 9 am. I teach another class at 10 am, so time is limited.

Send me your story. I'll read it tonight and we can discuss it.

- professor

Things were happening and the wheels were in motion. She emailed back with an attachment of her story.

She wondered what he would think.

The next morning. The door to the professor's office was open. As usual, he appeared to be working, looking at a few papers on his desk.

Natalie dressed in a similar fashion to their last meeting. Something casual, yet classy. Not too sexy, not too prudish. She didn't want to send the wrong signals, especially with what they'll be discussing.

After a knock on the door, the professor saw the student and invited her in. They exchanged pleasantries as she sat across from him at the desk. Sure, they had talked plenty of times in class, but a private meeting was always more special.

"Did you read the whole thing?" she asked.

"I did. I really liked it," he replied. "Strong work. You have a nice talent. I think your strength as a writer is your realism. There's a nice depth of characters."

Pride was bursting inside Natalie, but she managed to contain it.

"Thank you. I've put a lot of thought into this."

"I'm sure you did. As a writing assignment, this is probably A level work," he explained. "But you're not satisfied with that, are you? You're looking to become a novelist."

"That's right."

The professor reached for some papers. "Some notes I've made, that I've wanted to go over with you. They're simple ways to expand your descriptions and storylines so that you can fill out a book. I don't expect you to do that now. Frankly, I'd be swamped in reading if every student turned in a novel-length story."

Natalie took the papers and her eyes quickly scanned the notes.

"This is amazing. Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me."

"Do you do this for any student?" she asked.

"Only for students who wish to become novelists and want an extra level of being critiqued. I'm always happy to help in that regard."

"Have you ever slept with a student?" she asked bluntly, not caring about the potential consequences.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"I'm doing character research for my writing assignment."

He smiled. "Is that so? You're a ballsy girl, did you know that?"

"Shy girls can't get into a school like this. That's for sure."

"You're probably right about that."

"So what's the answer?"

"I have, with one student a few years ago," he replied. "But keep in mind, I wasn't the pursuer. I've never pursued a student sexually."

"Then how did it happen?"

"Let's just say we had a mutual friend and we met at a party. A swingers party. We both had opposite ends of the same interest. She was a hardcore submissive. I was an experienced Dom. You can imagine the rest."

"Interesting."

"Is this actually going to be in your story?"

"Probably," she replied. "In my story, the young woman forms a relationship with a much older man, who's far more experienced with life."

"Handsome too, I hope."

"Oh yes."

"Speaking of which, you mentioned something in your email about bringing your personal life into your story."

Natalie nodded. "That's right. My heart and mind want to take the story in the same direction. The thing is, that direction involves, you know, sex. Most young people go through this phase, where they just want to explore sex and it's beauty. I guess that's why it's flowing into my writing."

"And you're worried that people will judge you based on the content of your story."

"Exactly. Did you go through the same thing with your books?"

"Sure I did. But it's different. I'm a man. You're a young woman. Society has different standards for us when it comes to sex. But if you're looking for an answer from me, I'm sorry, I can't give you an answer. This has to be from you. This is your art, your story, not mine."

Natalie thought for a moment and nodded. "Can I show you something?"

"Of course."

"Hold on a second."

Natalie reached for her phone and searched through her pictures. Then she handed her phone to the professor.

"Those are from a photoshoot I did yesterday," she explained. "I almost emailed them to you yesterday, but I didn't think it would be appropriate."

He flipped through the explicit images. "Then why do you think it's appropriate now?"

"Because I value your opinion. And I wanted to show you that I took your advice from the last time we met. You told me to respect my body. Well, I did. I am. Those poses were my idea. That's my fantasy and my sexual expression as a healthy young woman."

The professor looked at the pictures on the phone again. "You certainly look like a healthy young woman."

He handed the phone back, and Natalie put it away.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Why not? We've already been getting personal."

She gulped. "As a dom, what would you do to your submissive, if she was in that position? On her knees with her hands tied."

"Any particular reason you want to know this?"

"I'm just curious. It'll help with my writing assignment, since I would understand what a real Dom would do in that situation."

He thought for a moment. Maybe he was thinking of what he would do. Maybe he was thinking if he should say it or not. Natalie couldn't tell. Finally, the professor gave his answer:

"I'd train your throat."

She was briefly taken aback. "I'm assuming you mean..."

"Deepthroating. Pardon the language, but that's what I'd do. It's the most obvious thing in that position, isn't it? You on your knees. With your hands tied behind your back, you wouldn't be able to resist my entry down your canal."

Natalie felt her pussy clenching.

"That certainly makes sense."

"Well, this is how you create a good story. You imagine all the scenarios and what would happen next. How the different characters would react in each situation. This is the way you should be thinking."

"I know."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you have more of your story completed than what you've emailed me."

"I sent you everything," she said with a playful expression. "I also have a lot of ideas, but I just haven't written them yet. I need to get over the whole anxiety of people knowing my thoughts."

"Authors can't push boundaries if they feel anxiety over what people think. That's for sure."

"Do you have any advice for that?" she asked with a slightly high pitched voice, as if she were suggesting something.

"Well, I've written all my novels the same way, which is to produce the best possible story that I want to tell, and that people would hopefully enjoy reading."

"Makes sense."
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