MIRROR: Download from MEGA
By Mephisto
(BDSM LIBRARY 02. 06.2009.)
Part 1
Christina Dupont, PhD, had every reason to be satisfied. Her job at the state prison allowed her free access to the bodies of young men, the prime target for her sexual obsession. Today, she was expecting an 18-year old who had been convicted of rape. She intended to administer her special treatment for rapists, a treatment that left them so sexually traumatized that they could not repeat the offense.
She examined herself in her mirror and was pleased with what she saw. Her thick blond hair was nipple-length and framed her classic, high-boned face with its dark, blazing eyes. She wore an expensive silk blazer over a thin white tank top that barely concealed her over-sized, jutting breasts. Her hard nipples, unrestrained by a bra, pressed visibly against the thin material. She wore a tight leather mini-skirt that was molded to her tiny buttocks and her flat, concave abdomen. Her long, tanned legs were clad in black high-heeled pumps. At 5'11", 35-22-34 and 118 lbs, her body was impossibly perfect.
She turned towards the door as she heard a knock and called out "come in." The door opened and a well-built boy stood at the entrance. The well-calculated effect of her body on him was immediate: his eyes widened and the beginnings of an erection were visible in his pants. She told him to sit down and began to ask him a series of questions, starting with the routine, but quickly moving to the intimate. She referred to this as "taking a sexual history." "Do you have a girl friend? Have you had sexual relations with her? How many times? Have you had oral sex? When did you first have sex? Describe the rape that you were convicted for. How did it feel?" As she fired the questions at him in a cool, insistent voice, he became more and more uncomfortable and awkward, stammering his answers. She did not fail to notice his increasing erection.
Suddenly, she stopped and said: "You're having trouble answering my questions, aren't you? Are they making you uncomfortable?" He nodded as his face reddened. "Stand up and come over here," she commanded in a soft, dangerous voice. He awkwardly rose and walked towards her, his hard-on now quite obvious inside his trousers. "Closer," she beckoned. When he was next to her, she reached out and ran her long fingernail along the outline of his erection and said: "You seem to be having trouble controlling yourself, aren't you?" He gasped and said nothing, just staring at her in disbelief. Using both her hands, she swiftly unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his zipper. As she pulled his trousers and underpants down over his erection and to his knees, she murmured: "Let's see what you're hiding in there. It looks like it feels trapped."
He stared down at his enormous erection, totally petrified from embarrassment. Smiling to herself sardonically, she stood up and removed her blazer. With her slender, but firmly muscled tanned arms, beautifully boned shoulders, delicate neck and hard, jutting breasts, she was now transformed from a sexy psychologist into an erotic wetdream. She picked up a glass from her desk with one hand, while with the other she touched the underside of his cock. That was all it took. He gave a sharp cry and semen spurted from his penis. She swiftly caught his load in the glass and then held his cock tightly with her hand and directed it into the glass for the rest. Within a few seconds, his orgasm subsided and he had deposited a substantial amount of cum in the glass.
"I didn't think you had much self-control, but this is really serious. Look at the mess you would have made on my rug if I hadn't had this glass handy. I'm going to have to give you some very intensive treatment to correct this problem. We'll start right now with you drinking all of this down." She raised the glass to the boy's mouth and tilted his head back with her other hand. When he refused to open his mouth, she pulled tightly on his hair and said: "If you don't drink immediately, I'll make you really suffer." Thoroughly frightened, he opened his mouth and she poured the thick liquid down his throat. He gagged as the acidic, warm goop burnt his tongue and settled like a leaden mass in his stomach. His face turned white as a wave of nausea swept over him. "That's better," she said, "you'll get used to it after a few more times and it will probably take at least that until you begin to learn some self-control. Now, let's get on with the second part of your treatment. I want you to bend over and grab hold of your ankles." By now totally submissive, he did as he was told. She stepped over to her closet, took out a three foot bamboo cane and positioned herself behind him. "A good caning is one of the best ways of training your body to learn sexual control" she stated. "I'm going to give you ten strokes. You are to count off each stroke. If you miss a count or try to move out of the way, I'll repeat the stroke. Is that understood?" When he failed to reply, she repeated the question, more sharply this time. He stammered out a barely audible "yes."
(BDSM LIBRARY 02. 06.2009.)
Part 1
Christina Dupont, PhD, had every reason to be satisfied. Her job at the state prison allowed her free access to the bodies of young men, the prime target for her sexual obsession. Today, she was expecting an 18-year old who had been convicted of rape. She intended to administer her special treatment for rapists, a treatment that left them so sexually traumatized that they could not repeat the offense.
She examined herself in her mirror and was pleased with what she saw. Her thick blond hair was nipple-length and framed her classic, high-boned face with its dark, blazing eyes. She wore an expensive silk blazer over a thin white tank top that barely concealed her over-sized, jutting breasts. Her hard nipples, unrestrained by a bra, pressed visibly against the thin material. She wore a tight leather mini-skirt that was molded to her tiny buttocks and her flat, concave abdomen. Her long, tanned legs were clad in black high-heeled pumps. At 5'11", 35-22-34 and 118 lbs, her body was impossibly perfect.
She turned towards the door as she heard a knock and called out "come in." The door opened and a well-built boy stood at the entrance. The well-calculated effect of her body on him was immediate: his eyes widened and the beginnings of an erection were visible in his pants. She told him to sit down and began to ask him a series of questions, starting with the routine, but quickly moving to the intimate. She referred to this as "taking a sexual history." "Do you have a girl friend? Have you had sexual relations with her? How many times? Have you had oral sex? When did you first have sex? Describe the rape that you were convicted for. How did it feel?" As she fired the questions at him in a cool, insistent voice, he became more and more uncomfortable and awkward, stammering his answers. She did not fail to notice his increasing erection.
Suddenly, she stopped and said: "You're having trouble answering my questions, aren't you? Are they making you uncomfortable?" He nodded as his face reddened. "Stand up and come over here," she commanded in a soft, dangerous voice. He awkwardly rose and walked towards her, his hard-on now quite obvious inside his trousers. "Closer," she beckoned. When he was next to her, she reached out and ran her long fingernail along the outline of his erection and said: "You seem to be having trouble controlling yourself, aren't you?" He gasped and said nothing, just staring at her in disbelief. Using both her hands, she swiftly unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his zipper. As she pulled his trousers and underpants down over his erection and to his knees, she murmured: "Let's see what you're hiding in there. It looks like it feels trapped."
He stared down at his enormous erection, totally petrified from embarrassment. Smiling to herself sardonically, she stood up and removed her blazer. With her slender, but firmly muscled tanned arms, beautifully boned shoulders, delicate neck and hard, jutting breasts, she was now transformed from a sexy psychologist into an erotic wetdream. She picked up a glass from her desk with one hand, while with the other she touched the underside of his cock. That was all it took. He gave a sharp cry and semen spurted from his penis. She swiftly caught his load in the glass and then held his cock tightly with her hand and directed it into the glass for the rest. Within a few seconds, his orgasm subsided and he had deposited a substantial amount of cum in the glass.
"I didn't think you had much self-control, but this is really serious. Look at the mess you would have made on my rug if I hadn't had this glass handy. I'm going to have to give you some very intensive treatment to correct this problem. We'll start right now with you drinking all of this down." She raised the glass to the boy's mouth and tilted his head back with her other hand. When he refused to open his mouth, she pulled tightly on his hair and said: "If you don't drink immediately, I'll make you really suffer." Thoroughly frightened, he opened his mouth and she poured the thick liquid down his throat. He gagged as the acidic, warm goop burnt his tongue and settled like a leaden mass in his stomach. His face turned white as a wave of nausea swept over him. "That's better," she said, "you'll get used to it after a few more times and it will probably take at least that until you begin to learn some self-control. Now, let's get on with the second part of your treatment. I want you to bend over and grab hold of your ankles." By now totally submissive, he did as he was told. She stepped over to her closet, took out a three foot bamboo cane and positioned herself behind him. "A good caning is one of the best ways of training your body to learn sexual control" she stated. "I'm going to give you ten strokes. You are to count off each stroke. If you miss a count or try to move out of the way, I'll repeat the stroke. Is that understood?" When he failed to reply, she repeated the question, more sharply this time. He stammered out a barely audible "yes."
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