Erotic Series

A, the Hard Way 4 — Bagging the B

I like my girls to be switches, it provides more opportunities for group assignments.

Emily Rogers, who shows more promise as a sex slave than a student, has already earned her E, deserved a D, and completed a C grade submission.

“Achieving a B requires more than concentrated, determined effort, Ms Rogers. Efficient students manage their time, balancing work and play rather than avoiding work to play with boys. So, let’s examine the idea of balance. Take your top off.”

For the first time, Emily shows genuine reluctance: she hugs her arms protectively over her chest. “Do I have to? Someone might see.”

“Young lady, you are standing in front of a second story window, naked from the waist down. If there was anyone outside looking at you, they could practically see up your birth canal. But now you’re worried about baring your breasts?”

“It’s different.”

I’ve struck a nerve, one I ought to have been aware of: there were clues I’m only recognising now. She’ll need careful handling to get over this hump. “Do you like your breasts, Emily?”

“Yeah! They’re fine.”

I don’t entirely believe her. “But you think perhaps other people might not?”

She gives me a narrow, sideways glance, perhaps wondering what I know and how I know it. “Maybe. Guys prefer bigger ones, like a C at least. All the top girls are bigger. I’ve had subs drop me because mine were too small.”

I’m so caught up in my hopes for Emily’s potential that for a second I assume she’s referring to submissives of her own. That would suit me — I like my girls to be switches, it provides more opportunities for group assignments— but then reality crashes in and I recognise the jargon of sexual commerce.

“Emily, strong women do not judge themselves by the standards of weak men. I’m sure your subscribers appreciate you, but based on how much they pay they do not value you. Personally, I think your breasts are perfect as they are, because they’re yours.”

She doesn’t respond, except by what Darwin called ‘the most human of all expressions’: her bewitching blush returns.

“Are your insecurities the reason you often hide your breasts in your videos?”

“I always hide— Hey! How many of my clips have you watched? Do you have a crush on me, professor?”

I don’t appreciate my girls, even those as tempting as Emily, using their own vulnerability to expose mine. I’ve been too considerate, and I need to re-establish authority. “It’s you who enjoys flaunting her body, Ms Rogers; perhaps you have a crush on yourself. Now, either take a C grade or your top off. It’s your choice.”

She chooses willing submission, staring at her feet for a second then abruptly pulling her last vestige of dignity over her head and handing it to me.

She has — of course — nothing to be ashamed of. Her breasts are beautiful, bell-shaped B-cups with large, pale pink nipples, but they could be saggy, side-set F’s or athletic A’s with hairy areolae as far as I’m concerned. The important point is not that I’m happy with them, but that she’s happy to share them with me.

“They’re perfect, Emily, and appropriate for this tutorial because they’re balanced. You have no visible asymmetry. Which one’s larger?”

She stares down at her breasts, eyes flicking from left to right. “I don’t know. They’re the same?”

“True symmetry is vanishingly rare. One of your breasts is certainly fractionally larger than the other. Try weighing them in your hands, see which one feels heavier.”

“Why?”

“Because you want a better grade, Ms Rogers, and this is how you get it.”

With an expression of eye-rolling resignation, she juggles her breasts for me. “They’re the same.”

“It’s hard to tell doing it that way, because your hands are slightly asymmetrical too. Try lifting them by the nipple.”

“What?”

“Pinch your nipples and lift your breasts, Ms Rogers. I want to know which is heavier.”

“Won’t that hurt?”

“Would it? You certainly tugged on your nipples before you came in, as part of your crude attempt at seduction. You made yourself look sexually alluring for my benefit. Do you have a crush on me, Emily?”

Her quiet “No,” directed at the carpet, screams ‘Yes.’

“Well, let’s not get distracted by personal feelings. Academic success relies on maintaining balanced objectivity, and I think we can approach the question of your breasts scientifically. Wait there, I’ll fetch some equipment.”

My bottom drawer is a treasure trove of educational aids, and I return with a pair of silver nipple clamps.

“Put these on, Ms Rogers. You’re an intelligent girl, I’m sure you can see how they work. Turn the screw until the bars get a firm grip of your nipples, but don’t overtighten or they’ll become painful. Aim for the sort of pleasant squeeze you gave yourself outside my office.”

She is indeed intelligent: smart enough to tighten them only so far that they don’t immediately fall off.

That really isn’t good enough. “Clever girl, Emily! I’m proud of you. But the clamps themselves are a little asymmetrical. The left one is looser than the right. Tighten the left for me, just a turn, and then they’ll be as perfectly balanced as your breasts.”

Intelligence flattered can quickly become foolishness. “Oh! Okay. Like this?”

She winces a little as she turns the screw.

“Like that, yes. But you may have gone too far. Tighten the right one as well, for balance.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath as she complies, but she does comply.

The pale pink of her nipples has turned almost white under the pressure of the bars. “That was good, Emily, but they’re unequal again. Another turn on the left, I think.”

Her wide-eyed pout silently pleads with me not to push this any further.

But I can’t help myself. “Just a fraction more, then they’ll be perfect, I promise.”

Her fraction is so small I see no change, but I do see her fingers move to follow my instructions, and that’s enough.

“Now grasp the screw heads between finger and thumb, and lift your breasts. Tell me which one is heavier.”

Her clamped nipples are stretched almost as much as her willingness, but she bites her lip and obeys. “They’re the same, I think.”

“Thank you, Ms Rogers. You can let go. Now, I’d like to talk to you about balance. How many blowjobs have you given?”

“I don’t know! A few?”

I raise a justifiably sceptical eyebrow. “Today, or in total?”

“All right, a lot. I’ve sucked a lot of dick. So what? I enjoy it.”

“Good for you, but we’re talking about balance, not sexual ethics. How many pussies have you licked?”

“None! Do you want me to lick yours? Is that what this is about? I don’t mind, I’ve always kind of wanted to try it. Will that get me an…”

Her eyes widen as she realises what A might signify. “Oh! I won’t lick you there!”

She will. Not today, certainly, but soon.

“You would lick a pussy, though? I thought you liked boys, Ms Rogers. Lots of boys. I’ve heard rumours. Something about a rugby team, a blowbang, and a bukkake.”

“That’s a lie!”

“But you have fucked most of the rugby team? The men’s team, at least.”

She cringes. “Not most. Only six of them. No, seven. Eight! Eight, I think. Probably eight. Sorry. There was a party…”

“Yes. Perhaps there should have been an essay instead, then I wouldn’t be asking if you want to earn an A.”

Emily’s lesson concludes in A, the Hard Way 5 — Achieving the A

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