Owning Professor Ballard Pt. 09

Pudge grunted into her pussy, but her tongue never wavered.

Penelope let go of her slave's nipple rings and ran her right hand down her slave's flat stomach to her bare vulva. She fingered the thick-lettered tattoo. She had marked her slave almost a year earlier. Just one simple word, but it said so much.

P R O P E R T Y

She smacked the bare pussy playfully with the flat of her right hand. Beneath her, pudge yelped into her wet folds.

'Who owns this pussy, pudge?" she asked.

"You do, mistress," came the usual muffled reply.

Penelope smiled, then looked at the clock. They had been at it for forty five minutes. She had to get going soon if she was going to make her first class on time.

She closed her eyes and focused on the movements of her slave's tongue inside her. She began to rock back and forth gently.

She gave it a few more minutes, then sighed. It was no good. Pudge's tongue was getting lazy and sluggish.

She needed encouragement.

Penelope leaned forward, shifting up onto her knees and brought her face down between pudge's thighs. She inhaled deeply, savoring her slave's scent. She gave the slit a playful lick, then craned her neck and spoke to her slave.

"Usual rules, pudge. If I make you cum first, you get the treatment," she said evenly, then lowered her face to her slave's pussy.

Penelope Paine was good at eating pussy. In only three minutes, pudge was on the brink. Penelope teased her a few more seconds, flicking her clit with her serpent of a tongue, then plunged two fingers inside, rotating them forward and pulling upward, massaging the slave's g-spot. She lowered her mouth the pudge's engorged clit and suckled the pink nubbin of flesh.

Beneath her, she felt the slave's tongue surge, trying to make a game of it, but the outcome was never really in doubt.

After only a few more seconds, pudge's thighs began to quiver.

Penelope spit out the clit, and resumed flicking it with the tip of her tongue, the pink, ribbon of muscle moving impossibly fast.

"Ahhhh...Oh fuuuuuck..." pudge sputtered into Penelope's pussy.

Penelope doubled the speed of her tongues oscillations, then pressed up firmly with her fingers, still embedded in the slave's ripening cunt. Pudge began to buck against her. She rocked back and forth against her mistress' hand for only a few gyrations, then it was over.

Pudge exploded. She came in great, screaming gasps.

The slave had long ago been trained to squirt during orgasm. It was much more amusing at parties.

Penelope pulled her face away, just as the geyser erupted, watching with pride as the slave sprayed her essence on to her thighs and belly, a large puddle darkening the white sheet beneath her.

Despite her screams and thrashing around wildly on the bed as the orgasm took her, pudge's tongue never flagged. She continued to flick and tease the pussy above her.

Penelope sat back upright on to her slave's face and shook her head ruefully. She reached over to the night stand and picked up the well-worn wooden paddle brush.

The young mistress straightened and shifted the brush to her right hand. She twirled it several times, feeling its heft, then raised it high over her head. She felt the usual shiver of anticipation, then uttered the word she always used to signal the start of a cunting.

"Spread," she said evenly.

Below her the slave shifted slightly, then spread her legs as widely as possible, tilting her vulva upward slightly.

Penelope looked down and sighted on her target, then brought the back side of the broad brush down with all her might squarely on to the slave's bare pussy.

There was a meaty, muffled thwack, followed by another and another. Penelope quickly settled into a rhythm.

Thwack...Thwack...Thwack

Penelope was gratified to feel the slave's tongue quicken immediately beneath her. A good cunting always had that effect. At first impact, the slithery pink muscle seemed to leap into overdrive, twitching and stabbing out wildly into her depths.

Penelope knew the slave would be in panic mode now, her tongue probing desperately for the right combination of swirls and clever pirouettes needed to bring her mistress to orgasm and end her torment.

After almost a year and a half under the brush, Pudge was getting better at bearing the pain gracefully. She didn't even start screaming this time until after the tenth stroke. The first hot tears didn't leak on to Penelope's inner thighs until stroke fifteen.

After that, it was mostly muffled sobs.

As usual, the sight of her slave's most intimate flesh reddening under the brush increased Penelope's arousal. After all, she was nothing if not a sadist at heart. In seconds she was on the edge. She was almost disappointed to feel herself cresting after only twenty strokes. She hadn't even worked up a good lather.

She raised her hand as high as she could and was just about to deliver the coup de grace, the last and firmest stroke given just as her orgasm took her when her phone chirped on the nightstand.

Penelope glanced over at the device in irritation and saw the caller ID: Daphne Swanson. She grunted in frustration. She had to take the call. Wearily, she dropped the brush on the bed and snatched up the handset.

"Hello, Professor Swanson," she said brightly.

"Hello, Penelope. What are you up to, darling?" asked Daphne breezily.

"Nothing really. Just...getting...ready...for...class." she answered breathlessly.

She was having a hard time concentrating

Beneath her, Pudge continued to lick and suck with renewed alacrity, no doubt hoping to bring Penelope to orgasm while she was still on the phone, thereby avoiding any further brush strokes.

"Ahhh.." gasped Penelope.

At the other end of the line, Daphne was getting exasperated.

"Don't lie to me, Penelope," said Daphne said sternly. "Tell that slut to get her tongue out of your pussy and leave the room. We need to talk."

"Umm. Okay," answered Penelope sheepishly.

She alighted from her slave's face and sat on the side of the bed. Pudge rose up on her elbows and gave her mistress a quizzical look.

Penelope snapped her fingers and placed a hand over the receiver.

"Go take a shower, pudge. You can finish up later," she hissed in a stage whisper.

She watched her slave slide off the bed. She crawled to the closet, then stood and put on her robe before scampering out the door to the showers.

She waited until she was sure the girl was gone, then spoke into the phone.

"Sorry, mistress," Penelope said softly. "She's gone. What can I do for you ma'am?" she asked meekly, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

Professor Daphne Swanson scared her to death.

Daphne was the only woman who had ever tamed Penelope Paine. Ironically, it had been Penelope who had made the first advances, but the tables had been quickly and expertly turned by the older and more experienced mistress. One minute, Penelope had been rubbing Daphne's knee clumsily through her dress, the next she was splayed out flat on her back, her arms pinned, with Daphne's neatly trimmed pussy descending slowly down upon her face.

Things went rapidly down hill from there.

Looking back, it was almost funny how badly Penelope had miscalculated. Daphne played her like a violin. There had been the usual seduction followed by the usual innocent snapshots. Then came the usual descent into the vortex of blackmail and depravity that were the hallmarks of Daphnes's particular brand of sadistic psychopathy.

In the end, Penelope had been fully trained as one of Daphne's pets. She had been pierced and marked and whipped. She had been lent out to men and women. She had been broken. She suffered quietly in Daphnes's clutches for months, constantly at her beck and call even at home until, finally, mercifully, the pretty blond mistress had lost interest in degrading her further and moved on to her current slave.

But Daphne didn't ship Penelope off to Miss Sylvia's lesbian brothel when she was done with her. Penelope was special. She couldn't just disappear like all the others. Instead, Daphne decided to take her on as her apprentice in the dark arts of lesbian seduction and slavery.

"Slaves make the best mistresses," Daphne had opined dryly on the day she unlocked her. "Now go out and capture a good little slut for is to play with," she added with a smile.

That same week, pudge had come in to her life.

On the other end of the line, Daphne paused and regarded her slave, still dangling in the corner. She was pleased to see the delicate lips stretched and taut, whitened with tension. The girl was blubbering quietly now.

"How's pudge doing, dear," asked Daphne mildly.

"She's fine, ma'am," replied Penelope neutrally.

"I don't know why you don't have her pussy pierced," said Daphne, an edge of irritation creeping into her voice.

Penelope cringed.

"That's just not my thing, ma'am," replied Penelope, shifting uncomfortably. "I did her nipples. The labial rings would only get in the way. I don't want to chip a tooth," she added, trying to inject a modicum of levity.

Daphne made a face.

"And it's ridiculous that you eat her pussy. Slave-pussy should be pierced and denied," said Daphne flatly.

Penelope chose her words wisely.

"Mistress, of course I would have her pierced and keep her denied if you ordered me to do so," said Penelope stiffly. "But you said I could train her my way," she added haltingly.

"Oh, never mind, Penelope. Do what you want with the whore," replied Daphne dismissively.

'How's cunt?" asked Penelope to change the subject.

Daphne looked over at the slave dangling her weights in the corner. She wondered idly if the delicate tissue might tear.

"She's hanging in there," she responded casually, chuckling at her own wit. "Ten pounds today."

Penelope winced and felt a brief pang of guilt at the thought of the long-suffering slave. It had been Penelope who had introduced the girl to Daphne, hoping to kindle an interest. She had been coming to the end of her third month as Daphne's slave and was constantly on the lookout for a suitable replacement. It had been the end of the first semester of freshman year. Penelope had been watching the girl for weeks, waiting for the right moment. To her relief, shortly after being introduced, Daphne had ordered Penelope to seduce and help capture the girl for her, thus ending her own term of service.

The slave was now barely recognizable as the innocent, vivacious freshman Penelope had known. She still lived in the single dorm room down the hall, but she was not permitted to speak or interact with any students. She just did her schoolwork and attended to her mistress, always wearing long skirts and loose-fitting sweatshirts to hide her labial and nipple rings. It was hard to believe Daphne had kept the girl so long. In the past, Daphne usually used her slaves only for a few weeks or months. The current slave had been kept for almost a year and a half.

On the other end of the line, as if sensing Penelope's thoughts, Daphne glanced again at her slave. Her gyrations were becoming weaker, the weights circling less rapidly than she liked. Daphne snapped her fingers twice, then wirled her index finger several times, indicating she wanted the slave to pick up the tempo. The girl reluctantly complied, fresh tears popping from the corners of her eyes.

Daphne took a deep breath to steady herself. This was going to be the tricky part of the conversation. Conscious of her slave's eavesdropping, Daphne resolved to speak as circumspectly as possible. Secrecy and discretion were paramount.

"Listen, Penelope. I have some big news about our favorite cunty English professor."

In the quiet dorm room, Penelope stiffened.

"What news, mistress?" she asked warily.

"It appears the old bitch is in play," replied Daphne casually.

Penelope gasped audibly.

"What?" she asked, stunned.

"Surely you've heard the rumors, dear," replied Daphne.

"Well, of course. I know she's been lezzing it up a bit with some of the more mousy girls, but she's always been strictly vanilla, an amateur. She works around the edges, nothing too wild. She's certainly not in the scene."

"She is now," said Daphne simply. "She's being trained as a slave. Her mistress is a student."

Penelope was speechless. She could not process the concept of the ice queen of the English department as a submissive lesbian sex slave to a lowly student.

"How do you know?" she asked, all formality and decorum forgotten.

Daphne paused. This was a very delicate situation. She had no intention of telling Penelope about her encounter in Ballard's office. It would complicate things.

"Let's just say I have it on good authority that this is the case. Leave it at that," she said neutrally.

"Fuck that, Daphne. How do you know?" Penelope snapped, the knuckles of her right hand white as her grip tightened unconsciously around her cell phone.

Daphne physically recoiled, pulling the phone away from her ear. She was not used to being spoken to in this manner. She took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke, her voice was low and laced with menace.

"Listen, you bratty cunt. I still own you. I've taken you on as my protege, but you're still my slave. Or would you like me to send some of your snapshots to daddy?"

Penelope blanched.

"No, mistress. I'm sorry ma'am. It's just I can't believe it." she replied, breathlessly.

"Well I'm telling you to believe it, cunt," said Daphne frostily.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Penelope, chastened.

Daphne paused to compose herself, then went on.

"The reason I'm telling you all this is that I'm going to make her my next project. Now that she's in the life, I've decided to make a play for her myself," said Daphne stiffly.

Penelope took the phone away from her ear and stared at for several seconds, as if it were an artifact from a long-dead civilization.

"What?" replied Penelope incredulously, bringing the phone back to her ear. "She would never go for that, mistress. She hates you, you said so yourself."

"Never you mind, Penelope," said Daphne evenly. "I'll capture her like I've captured all the others. Like I captured you. Just like you, she's going to provide me with the tools of her own undoing."

"If you say so, ma'am," replied Penelope guardedly. "But this is Professor Kathleen Ballard were talking about, not some dopey student," she added archly.

"I'm quite aware of her credentials, Penelope, but I've already made up my mind. I'm going to make her my pet and I wanted you to be in on the ground floor."

"Me? Why me, ma'am," replied Penelope, genuinely baffled.

Daphne paused meaningfully, then dropped her bombshell.

"Because I'm going to give her to you when I'm done with her," said Daphne simply.

Penleope froze.

"What?"

"You heard me, Penelope. Its the perfect solution. She's been a thorn in both of our sides and now we have the chance to take her off the board once and for all. After I'm done using her, I'll turn her over to you. You will move in to her house and make her a ‪24/7‬ slave in her own home. Her humiliation will be complete. She will be out of my hair and under your thumb."

"Mistress, I don't know. It seems so...extreme, even for you, ma'am."

Daphne bristled at the subtle rebuke.

"I'm not asking, I'm telling, cunt. You will do as you're told. I've made up my mind. She is going to be your slave. I'm going to enjoy watching you two get together very much," Daphne chuckled.

"But," Penelope sputtered.

"There are no buts about it, Penelope. My decision is final. You can either take on the task willingly or I can bring you back in for some intensive training to improve your obedience," she snapped. "We can have you re-pierced this afternoon if you like," she added tersely.

Penelope shuddered. She felt a cold brick of dread in the pit of her stomach. Daphne would do it. The crazy bitch would bring her back in. She couldn't bear to even think about it.

Unconsciously, Penelope's right hand crept down between her legs and gently fingered her distended labia. The punctures in the delicate flesh had healed over months ago, but her inner lips still hung down over four inches, a permanent reminder of her suffering at the hands of Daphne.

She pulled her hand up and fingered her beautiful chrysanthemum tattoo inked on her bare vulva. Daphne had paid for it, albeit at a discounted rate secured by ordering Penelope to blow the repulsive middle-aged artist first. It was a brilliant yellow, the petals intricately etched with delicate, flowing black lines. It really was a work of art. But if you examined the tattoo closely and knew where to look, Daphne's mark was still barely visible beneath.

DAPHNE'S

CUNT

No, maam," rasped Penlope, choking back a sob. "That won't be necessary, mistress."

Daphne continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"But I warn you, Penelope, my tastes have indeed become even more extreme since our little dalliance. I'm thinking of having my current pet branded."

As she spoke, Daphne glanced over at her slave, still dangling in the corner. She watched with satisfaction as the girl's eyes widened with terror. Daphne winked at her.

"No, mistress," Penelope repeated. "Ill do it. I look forward to seeing the old bitch on her knees," she added for effect.

"That's more like it, Penelope," replied Daphne stiffly

"Yes, ma'am," said Penelope softly.

Daphne paused.

"I still find it so odd to using your given name. It sounds so formal. I thought your pet name was so cute."

"I'll be twenty years old next week, mistress. A girl's got to grow up sometime," replied Penelope evenly.

Daphne took on a more conciliatory tone.

"Thinks about it, Penelope," she began, emphasizing each syllable of her name. "The bitch will belong to you. You'll finally be able to pay her back for all the misery she has caused you. I'll do the hard work getting her trained properly. By the time I give her to you, she'll be totally broken. Being delivered to you will her final indignity."

Daphne paused, warming to the topic.

"Once she's yours, you can do whatever you want with her. You can share her with your friends, male and female, because believe you me she will be very proficient at pleasing both. Use her as a sex toy or a pain pig or a house maid or a piss slave, I don't care. It's up to you."

Penlope listened in stunned silence. She was still in shock, but was already beginning to think about the practicalities of seeing Daphne's plan through. It might be interesting.

"What about pudge, " she asked uncertainly.

"She will have to go, of course," replied Daphne crisply. "I want you focused completely on your new toy. I have several ideas about what to do with pudge."

Penelope hesitated. After getting over the initial shock of the idea, she began to appreciate the simple elegance of the plan. This could work out quite well for her. She felt the first faint stirrings of arousal. She pictured the high and mighty Professor Kathleen Ballard naked and collared, kneeling before her. Begging. She felt deep a tingling in her loins at the pure debauchery of it all.

"What about her job? Would she continue to work?" she asked.

"Of course. How else is she going to support you?" replied Daphne, reasonably. "She'll work and you'll spend her money however you like. You don't understand, Penelope. Once you've consummated your relationship, she'll be a pariah. She'll have nowhere else to go. Everything she has will be yours."

Penelope let it all sink in. She looked around the drab dorm room. It would be nice to have a big house to live in. She would have it all to herself. She could keep the bitch in a dog crate in the basement when she wasn't being used.