The Professor & The Ballerina Ch. 02

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Ellie tells a classmate about her weekend with The Professor.
3k words
4.33
18.2k
5

Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 10/29/2022
Created 11/22/2012
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A very special thank you to William Vanderpool for his considerate criticism & thoughtful feedback.


Monday – back to life, I walk nervously to my Anthr320 class – heart in a tight knot, throat closed with anticipation, stomach feeling like its on an elevator dropping 25 floors. A pulsing, hot cunt still reeling from the events of the weekend, and barely able to sit on my bruised ass, my legs quivered with each step.

Afraid that reality will be a complete departure from this past weekend, that somehow I'll awaken and this will all have been a dream, I smile and breathe. I feel more alive than I have ever felt before. The crackle and hum of the late autumn air pricks my skin and dances in my hair.

I take a deep breath, press my lips together, and turn the handle of the auditorium door, ready for the lecture my parents were paying a lot of money to have me hear. Emily appears out of nowhere, bubbly and too excited to be here, right in my face.

"Hi, Ellie!" She is way too happy for a Monday. "How was your weekend, did you get to 'chill and decompress'?"

My mouth just hung agape, and before I could answer, she delved into a lengthy account of her Thanksgiving activities. Aunts, uncles, cousins, a perfectly roasted turkey, an apple pie that no one ate, and the best Bloody Mary her sister had ever made her with three olives and a celery stick. Details that I had no desire to know, and would never remember.

I secretly wished that I had sunglasses, because I felt as though I were a little hung over, (not from alcohol, but rather from being drunk with submission,) and not at all ready for the onslaught of human behavior that was thrusting itself toward me at 10:20 in the morning on a Monday after Thanksgiving.

"Yeah." Is all that I managed before I slumped delicately into the theatre chair.

You waltz on to stage, dimly lit by a pencil spotlight that shone from directly above. Perfectly composed, you strode to the lectern, not even glancing in my direction. Oh, how your inattention made me feel so small and insignificant. I wondered if you did it on purpose to teach me a lesson, or if you truly didn't care; was I just some other nubile slut to you? You were masterful at compartmentalizing things, that much I had learned already.

My heart plummeted to my belly, and I wanted to run out the door and into the ladies room and cry and throw up into the toilet, but I didn't. I sat there, forlorn and searching for some sort of sign from you – anything – that would acknowledge that I had spent nearly 3 days in your playroom, being your submissive slut and learning how to please you. Of course, I heard nothing of what you were lecturing us about, on your series of Women & Death in European Cultures. I merely glanced around the auditorium, curiously choosing which women might be submissively ripe for your taking.

I felt hollow, a shell of myself. Contemplating my own existence and choices, because ... well, everything that had transpired this past weekend was because I hadwantedit to – I had chosen it to be so.Who was I ... what did I want ... what did this mean? How did this fit into my life?I was so puzzled and confused. There was no way I could concentrate on dancing or anything else, namely the paper that was absolutely going to be late because it hadn't even been started!

I secretly sighed and ran my hand through my hair, tugging at it, not nearly as hard as you had yesterday, my scalp still tender. I was forever changed by the events that had transpired this past weekend. I could never go back. I would never be the same person I was on Thanksgiving morning.

At the end of the lecture, you walked away without even a glance in my direction. My heart sunk. I had no idea what to do with myself now.

Emily startled me from my downwardly spiraling thoughts. "Hey, Ellie!" Let's go have lunch somewhere."

I didn't argue, but she continued in her plea. I twisted a big strand of blonde hair around my middle finger, tugged hard, and looked at her inquisitively.

"It's early, I know, but my feeding schedule is all out of whack because of Thanksgiving." She chuckled at herself.

I laughed along with her because I thought it was amusing to refer to 'eating lunch' as a 'feeding schedule.' Emily was an odd bird. I usually didn't eat lunch unless it was a smoothie, and I never ate this early. It was only 11:40.

"My treat, just no turkey." She declared. And not that it even made a difference, I just wanted away from my own reality, so I accepted.

We went off campus to a hole-in-the-wall Japanese restaurant. Emily and I sat in a hidden corner of the restaurant, away from the door, the kitchen and the bathroom. We ordered a pot of hot tea and promised the waiter we'd study the menu.

"So ... tell me." Emily demanded with expectant hazel eyes and a devilish thin grin. I felt like she knew – already knew – all of my secrets. But that was impossible. So I bluffed, badly.

"Tell you what?" I laughed nervously and brushed my hair behind my ear – even though it was in a ponytail and there was none to brush away! What a dead give away.

And Emily, in all her seemed naïveté, shook her head and lowered her voice.

"I know, Ellie. So spill it." She squinted her eyes and suddenly transformed into some evil interrogator extracting information from an unwilling informant.

My face dropped and was flush with embarrassment and shame. I felt like I was going to cry.

"Did you fuck him?" She had transformed from simpleton to sinister in a second, demanding details.How did she even know?

I sat there with my mouth open, tongue-tied, huffing in the oxygen in short breaths and grasping my tiny china teacup so tightly, that I thought it would shatter in my grasp. I wished so hard that I could disappear, but Emily broke her stern look and smiled.

"Just kidding, friend." SHIT. She had totally played me.

I clicked my tongue, and nervously laughed at her insane ruse, relieved and annoyed all at once.

"I ... I ..." I was thinking of some outlandish tale I could tell her to save my embarrassment at having been totally played by her. Then I spontaneously decided that I did need a confidante and that Emily, my little simpleton friend from Professor Leo's class would suffice. She knew us both, so it only seemed reasonable to include her in on this adventure.

"I did fuck him, Emily." I said with complete seriousness and adoration. "Or rather, he fucked me." Smiling, as I remembered the way it felt to have the girth and length of my Professor's cock filling my near-virgin cunt. My eyelids fluttered.

Emily roared quietly, wavering back and forth between complete disbelief and stunned amazement. When she realized that I was not joking, noted mainly by the very satisfied look on my face and also by me pulling down my top enough for her to see the cane marks that still lingered across my chest, her mouth dropped open and she dropped her teacup.

Warm green tea oozed out over the small table and we blotted at it in slow motion with our cloth napkins, not meeting one another's eyes for a moment.

Then she looked at me quizzically, seriously, "Professor Hutchinson?"

"Yes. Professor Hutchinson." I mused, biting the inside of my cheek.

"Wow." We were now done cleaning up her initial reaction, both of our napkins, saturated with the surprised green tea seepage.

I took a deep breath and confided, mainly because I needed to, and Emily seemed like a fairly trustworthy confidante. There was a very long quiet contemplation between the both of us; a silent understanding that whatever I told her now would forever be only remembered here, in this Japanese restaurant.

"I went over to his house on Thanksgiving because he and his wife invited me, but she ended up having to go to her parents' house for an emergency, so it was just the two of us." I began slowly, not sure how much I was going to tell her.

Emily didn't breathe; she sat silently stunned, waiting to hear everything. I couldn't hold back.

"Oh, Em, it was deliciously decadent. It started with wine and cheese, and I saw his office! And I pulled a book and this door came open and there was this amazing room of torture and pleasure and, I danced for him and it was the best performance of my life and although he was the audience, he was also my imaginary partner, and when I jumped through the air, he caught me with one arm, wrapped his huge hand around my neck and then ravished me, kissed every inch of my face, neck, shoulders, chest, ripping off my thin lacey bra and my thong, which was drenched from desire, taking me, making me his."

Those words spilled out in about five seconds, in a long, run-on sentence of lustful neediness. And I didn't stop. My skin started to tingle and my cunt warmed as I relived the events of the weekend.

"He sunk his teeth into the flesh of my tits, pulled hard on my nipples and suckled on them until I felt as though milk was going to flow from my breasts. It was quite honestly, the most erotic experience that I have ever had, or could ever dream of having. And I came twice because of it. I was limp in his arms, Emily. I think I may have passed out, I don't know. He held me, growling low, and rubbed the scruff of his stubbly chin under my neck, around my face, and down my chest, rubbing his scent on me, marking his territory. I could smell him all over me. I moaned and started to drift into a trance, and he took his strong hand and smacked my creamy cunt twice. My eyes, half-mast, shot open in an instant. He had my attention again."

"'Wake up, slut.' No longer were his words sweet, and coaxing, no more 'Ellie's' ... no, now he was peering down at me as a Dominant, and expecting me to respond. I was absolutely out of my element, but I wanted so desperately to please him that I submitted to him, instinctively opening my legs wider and my mouth just slightly. And I waited, I waited for his instruction, but there was none. He just studied me for a moment, then closed his eyes and ducked his head down to my smoldering slit ... needing it, tonguing it, owning it, making itHiscunt. He lapped at my clit, his tongue like a wolf's tongue – thick and steamy – running the length of my slit and driving me further into the depths of desire. My breath took on a life of its own and I was barely able to decipher the foggy thoughts in my mind. Everything was slowly fading away, and I was close to a huge orgasm, my breath becoming ragged and eager. And he let me cum, he worked his hand inside of my needy cunt as his tongue deftly circled the throbbing mass that was my clitoris. He let me cum, once, twice ... almost a third time, but then he drew away and slapped his hand across the hot cavern of my pussy again, and hissed, with steamy breath, into my ear canal, 'Enough, slut.'"

"And he pulled away from me completely, leaving me longing, throbbing, convulsing, near tears, begging, ... 'No, please, please, Professor, please don't do this. Please let me cum again, I need to, I want to.' But he explained that I was undisciplined and indulgent, and that the first lesson he was going to teach me was control. So that's what we worked on all weekend long. And, Emily, it was marvelous and challenging and degrading and so fulfilling and ..."

Emily listened with rapt attention, not wanting me to stop.

"And, oh, shit!" I looked at my iPhone peeking out of my bag, I thought I had heard something vibrate a few minutes ago! A message: 'Be in my office in 5 minutes.' All the blood drained from my face, and I felt a panicked chill.

I look at the time the message was: 1:13. It was now 1:33. Not only was I late for your request, I was also going to be late for rehearsal. Very late. But I could take the wrath of Dana and the disdainful looks from the other dancers. What I couldn't bear was disappointing you.

"Shit, I have to go." And before Emily could open her mouth to ask me why, I was out the door of the restaurant, hearing the little bells on the door handle jingle behind me.

My heart raced, as I ran at a decent clip, four blocks back to campus, making my way to your office. Paying no attention to the world around me, and narrowly avoiding a collision with a car, as I ran through the middle of the street to take a short cut. A horn honked and someone yelled "dumb bitch!" but instead of my usual pissed off retort like "fuck you," I smiled and waved at them, racing fast toward you.

As I got to the building where your office was located, my phone buzzed again. I still had it in my hand, never having let go since the restaurant. My hand was on the handle, pushing the building doors open when it buzzed a disappointed 'Nevermind.'

No. no no no no no!! I ignored that, and plowed on down the hall, bumping past other students, and got to your office door. It was locked.

Buzz: 'I said nevermind.'

I furiously text back, 'Sir, I'm so sorry. I was at a restaurant, and I didn't look at my phone and I'm here now. Please, Sir.'

Buzz: 'Ellie. Go to rehearsal. You're late.'

'I don't care, I want to see you'Hot tears were stinging my eyes as I typed, I could barely see the letters. I heard some students whispering about me.

Buzz: 'Enough. Go to rehearsal. That's an order. You will be punished for this later.'

I stood there for a minute, phone still in my hand, and sighed. Who was I becoming? I was unraveling, trembling with discontentment and desire.

Buzz: 'Where are you???'This one was from Shaun. 'Dana is pissed.'

I gathered up my composure and quickly typed: 'OMW'

On my brisk walk to the other side of campus, I tried to regain my composure and formulated an excuse in my head: Study group for Anth320 @ lunch ran late & I lost track of time. That wasn't a total lie.

I still had to change into my dance clothes. I got to the backstage entrance and snuck in quietly. Most everyone was out on front stage, rehearsing something without me. I'm sure my understudy, Veronica, was just elated at my absence. She was the kind of competitive dancer who secretly wished that I would come down with mono or something so that she could steal my role. Not today, bitch, not today.

I silently slithered out of my skirt, and began to step into my tights when Shaun came around the corner.

"What the fuck, Ellie?" He was livid. If he was this pissed, I'm sure Dana was a lot more steamed. I turned to face him, trying to hide my bruised and reddened backside from his view. Wearing only my top, holding my tights in my hand, I held my breath and hoped that he couldn't read me.

"First flaking on me and Annabelle at the airport yesterday and now this? What the fuck is going on with you?" He had a wicked temper, and paced around me like a tiger.

"I'm sorry, Shaunie, I ..." I stammered. We were like brother and sister, but more than that – lovers, but not the way you're thinking ... Shaun is gay & I am straight – well, bisexual, but it's a complicated relationship.

"Holy shit!" He hissed at me. Because my ass was facing the mirror, Shaun could see the welts that criss-crossed my ass and thighs. "What the hell happened?" He grabbed my arm and yanked me around before I could protest.

"I ... I ..." I wasn't prepared for anyone to see my sweet mementoes of the weekend, but wanted to explain them to Shaun. Out of everyone, he might understand.

"I don't want to know," he condemned and released me. "Put your black tights on because you're going to be able to see that through the pink ones, and, "Jesus," he took notice of the red weal peeking from the top of my shirt, "put on a leotard that covers up whatever the fuck that is." He demanded, waving his finger toward my tits.

He took a deep, frustrated breath. "We'll talk tonight – the three of us, you, me & Annabelle." That wasn't a request, it was a demand.

Shaun stormed off before I could apologize and explain. His disappointment was palpable.

"She's here, she'll be right on stage." I could hear him announcing to everyone.

As a punishment, Dana dressed me down in front of the entire company.

"Well, Miss Anderson," he preened in his most queenly manner. "Seems as though you had otherpressingmatters to attend to while the rest of us were here, ready to do a dry run of the performance." He paced around me, arms crossed. "Your friend, Veronica Rose, was so very kind to step into the role of Aurora & dance it so beautifully for us, so you know, we wouldn't waste any precious time waiting."

"Well," I swallowed dryly, "I'm sorry, Sir, I'm here now, so, I'm ready to go."

"Oh yes, Miss Anderson, please, let us now get to work, since but you will sit to the sides and dictate the stage direction this run ..." Further punishment. This day was getting worse by the breath.

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Aurora LeighAurora Leighabout 11 years agoAuthor
wow! thank you, Sir or Madame Anonymous ...

i can't tell you how appreciative i am that you took the time to comment on my work - it's the only payment a writer on lit receives & i am grateful that you took the time to do so. it is inspiration enough to continue on with the story of Leo & Ellie. and just for the record, i have never cracked "50 shades of whatever" but i have never felt the pull to do so because well, 1) there are plenty of amazing writers on this site that keep me intrigued & b) my own imagination leaves me satisfied most of the time :) Thank you again !

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
well done

I would to thank you for writing this as its well constructed and the narrative follows from start to finish. You have a rare talent on this site for writing realism which I can say is a breath of fresh air as most stories feel like they have been written by 5th grader's with there eyes closed.

I have one thing to tell you don't let negative feedback stop you as you write better than any ''shades of grey'' book could ever

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