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Debauchery on Campus (Chynya x lilbreadstick16)

When she walked out of the bathroom, he turned towards the mirror and listened as he heard Taylor lay down on the bed, the soft squeek of the bedsprings letting him know she followed his orders. Looking back into his own reflection, he took a few deep breaths, steadying his own nerves, not really knowing what direction this next part was going to take.

Walking out into the main room, he glanced at his prize for a moment before walking over to his duffel bag sitting on the chair in the corner, where he took out a couple of his white undershirts. Facing Taylor, he placed on on the edge of the bed while he started to tear the other on up into long strips of cloth, though he wished he had thought to bring some rope. After the first was no longer able to provide anything he could use, he did the same to the other shirt. When he was finished, he grabbed four of them and tossed them next to her head.

"Use two on each wrist. Tie a tight knot with the other end free,. Once you're done, place your hands behind your back. I'm going to tie your ankles together and before you think about trying to kick me, just remember there is nobody that will come save you."

Grabbing the remaining strips, he moved to the side of her legs, one knee pressing into the mattress, prepping himself just on case she decided to swing a foot at him.
 
Taylor's grip tightened when she heard soft footsteps across the carpet. She curled her toes, relaxed, and curled them again nervously. She listened to him rifling through his bag, trying to keep her imagination at bay. No need to panic before she knew what it would be. But the questions kept coming as she heard the quick rips of fabric behind her. She waited, tried to count the seconds, and focused on counting the shredding sounds instead. After what felt like hours, he dropped something next to her. She opened her eyes and saw a... pile of shirts. Her brows furrowed as he spoke.

"Yes.... sir," Taylor mumbled obediently. She peeled sweaty hands from the sheets and reached for the shirts instead. Somehow, it soothed her to know that he hadn't planned this. She pulled one shirt apart, twisted it into a long stretch of cotton, and then began to tie that around the sleeve of another shirt. She repeated this again with the other, keeping her eyes pinned to her project, propped up by her elbows. Once she had two knotted shirts, she looped one knot around her wrist, tied it clumsily, and pulled it tight with her teeth. Once she managed this, she suffered a glance at him. She wasn't sure how he would respond if she did anything.. wrong, yet, and her mind couldn't help but anticipate a nasty word or hand at any moment.

When the second makeshift cuff was tugged tight between her teeth, Taylor dropped her face back into the sheets with a small huff of frustration. She turned to press closed eyes into the sheets again and pulled her hands behind her to rest on her lower back. A few fingers grasped at each other to keep her wrists in place. And back to the waiting game, waiting for the burn of his hot skin on hers, at her ankles then further up, waiting to go through with this, waiting to go to bed, waiting to go home to her own bed and forget this. Taylor's cheeks burned. She turned her face again, flicking her eyes open for a moment as the sheets cooled her blush momentarily.
 
Despite his coiled, flexed muscles, a fight didn't come as he wrapped a couple pieces of the ripped shirts around her ankles, cinching them together tight. Stephen repeated the process at her knees with the last two strips before moving up to her hands, wrapping the loose ends together, bringing her wrists together with the best knot he knew how to tie. Pushing himself back off the bed, he looked down at the makeshift restraints and nodded to himself. "Good girl. You might not be as lost of a cause as I first thought."

Taking a couple steps to the side of the bed closest to the door, he sat on the bed and then pushed himself against the headboard, back flush against the faux wooden surface. Reaching over, he turned off the light switch, plunging them both into darkness until he pushed the little red button on the TV remote. The harsh white light exploded against his still adjusting eyes as he quickly found the sports channel and turned on a classic football game that was being replayed. Turning up the volume until it verged on being too loud outside the little room, he took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

Reaching over with his left hand, he rested his palm against Taylor's back, making small circles with his thumb as he turned his attention away from his little captive. The game he was watching was an old college game, one he had actually lived through and seen live about fifteen years prior. He knew the outcome, but it was still good to see the tug of war between the two teams. "I lost two hundred bucks on this game. If the refs hadn't have thrown the flag at the end of the game, I would have won a couple thousand. Bastards," was all he said.
 
His touch sent a shiver from Taylor's ankle to the base of her skull, spine wavering like a guitar string for a moment. Her stomach clenched. There was no going back from this. She had no guarantee that she could free herself from this. That certainty grew as he bound her knees, then finally, her wrists.

Taylor squirmed instinctively, body fighting for movement. Her fight or flight kicked in then. Breath short. Shallow. Muscles coiling like angry snakes, internal temperature rising steadily. Then he sat down.

She held still, letting out rapid little breaths while he shut off the light, on the TV. Volume, up. And then she waited. So they can't hear you scream, is what she waited for. I lost two hundred bucks on this game, is what she got. She let out another breath. Waited. Listened to the game, the plays called, but as time passed, her breathing steadied, slowed, and evened. She relaxed her shoulders and neck, which had been the barrier between his grasp and her throat and face. Unconsciously, these familiar sounds began to ease Taylor out of the oncoming panic. Once her mind cleared, she decided to let herself enjoy this little rest, despite its unique circumstances. She shifted slightly, bending her elbows before settling bound wrists back into place, and turned her face the other way again, embracing the cool sheet. Though her brows were furrowed, a small, relieved smile rested on her lips.
 
As the game went on, a shortened condensed showing that cut out all the timeouts and nonsense of a typical broadcast, he let his hand feel Taylor's breathing settle down, tremors dissipate. Nearing the end of the game, he turned his head, trying as hard as he could not to make a noise or give away that he was now staring at the crudely lit naked body before him. The blue-white glow from the TV reflected back to him from her skin accentuated every curve, the small dimples at the small of her back looking more like valleys than potholes. Reaching over to the nightstand, the bed creaking ever so slightly, he pressed the red button again, the darkness oppressive after the harsh light of the screen.

"Are you ready to begin your lessons?" he asked into the pitch black air.
 
Taylor seemed to sink deeper into the sheets as she relaxed. The day was catching up to her again, and the hot water had eased her muscles into a resting state. Her back rose and fell as she lay half conscious, listening to the game and her own breathing until the room went dark again. His voice lured her eyes open and up to him, squinting through the dark. "Ah.. lessons?" Back to trying to figure him out, and fighting off the ideas of what could come next. Her neck strained to hold her head at such an awkward angle, so she let it drop, her gaze falling instead to the white sheets. She followed the curves, hills, and valleys in the creases, his body looming behind them in her vision.
 
Stephen used his hand to tell where she was compared to him, giving him an idea where to move next. Pushing off the ground with his foot as he pivoted, he nearly jumped to straddle Taylor's small body, knees on either side of her. His hand that had been resting on her back slid off and held his weight as he leaned down next to her ear, bringing his off hand up and run the fingers through her hair. Grabbing hold of as much of her mane as he could, he twisted and yanked back until her eyes were staring up in the direction of the ceiling.

"Now you're going to keep quiet while I do...whatever I want," he whispered into her ear before leaning back and bringing his now free hand behind him grasping her ass with a firm grip, letting out a pleased little sigh at what he felt.

Wasting no time, he moved his fingers between her legs, placing his fingertips against her perineum, giving her notice of exactly what his intentions were with her body. Increasing the pressure with each passing moment, each heartbeat, he pulled on her hair until he could tell it would not go any further without doing some real damage. With a violent shove, he threw her head forward, releasing his grip on her as the sound of her face hitting the comforter gave him visions in his head about what that would look like if the lights were on.

Shifting his body, he slid his underwear off one leg at a time, keeping most of his weight pinning her down, finally free of the restricting fabric. Returning to his straddling position, his hips started to gyrate as he rubbed his slowly hardening cock and balls her back, working himself up faster and faster. "You wanted a professor, but you get me instead."
 
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Taylor let out a quiet yelp when Stephen flipped himself on top of her, and she immediately braced herself for any more contact. She squeezed her eyes, drew her shoulders up, and clenched her jaw tight. This all came just in time for an agonizing jerk of her hair. Her eyes flew open and she found herself staring into a fuzzy darkness, straight up. She whimpered. His breath against her ear sent a shiver down her arched back.

She tried to squirm from his touch despite the restraints as his hand slid between her legs. He pulled tighter at the mess of hair in his grip and she cried out, straining her back to try to relieve some of the pain. Taylor stretched back and let out another whimper. This one was accompanied by a very quiet "Please.." After a moment, she was finally released and shoved back into the sheets.

She immediately pushed her shoulders forward, stretching the muscles in her neck and back that had just been pulled so severely. Her head throbbed, and probably would until she got the chance to sleep it off. She was pushing herself into the sheets further, to stretch out the burning muscles, when she felt him shift, free hand sliding down the last piece of fabric that stood between her and his cock. She froze. Stephen pulled himself loose, and Taylor's breath shook when the heat of his cock tapped against her back. He slid himself against her, teasing her with the threat of the fuck, dragging it out. She bit her lip in anger and started to squirm, then thrash in her restraints, shaking her head. "No, no, I'm out! I don't want to do this!" Tears started to slip down her cheeks again.
 
"You should have listened to those rumors if you didn't want to do this. Sure your job and life at the University would have been over, but you made the choice to come here tonight."

He punctuated his statement by digging his thumbs into her back, between the lower two ribs on either side of her spine. There was nothing he could do to someone that he hadn't experienced himself, even if not quite to the extent he dished out. He'd been stabbed, shot with a .22, punched, beat to hell, and held hostage against his will. True everything had been at the hands of his abusive father, but nobody knew that story to his life.

After a few seconds he pulled his hands away from her, giving her body some time to relax and absorb from the punishment, light compared to what would come. Reaching down, he pushed her head to one side, pressing her left side into the downy top.

"You're just like every other whore. Pert of you fantasizes about this. An older man trapping you and having his way with you. You're own body will betray all the protestations your mind tries to spit out. Your pussy will throb and lubricate itself for my cock when the time comes.

"But that's ok. I like the struggle, the extra tightness that brings along with it." Taking a deep breath, feeling the trembling body beneath him squirm in an attempt to get away. "Things will be easier if you just let it happen Taylor. I've wanted to fuck you since I first saw you. But don't think you're special. You're just another conquest, another mountain to climb. Just another toy for me to use."
 
Taylor gasped and bit into the sheets to keep from crying out. The dull, deep pain ran along her ribs, up her spine, and spawned a distant, growing headache. She clenched her teeth on the cotton sheets, drool dampening the fabric at the corners of her mouth. Once the immediate pain faded, her mind started to clear. The sheet slipped from between her teeth as he pressed her into the bed again. The panic began setting in.

She changed her mind, she said no, she said no! Taylor's vision blurred as she started squirming, doing her best to roll onto her back. If she could get her legs under him, she could probably kick him off. He was stronger, but he had to hold his balance- she was safe in the sheets. When she realized that her thrashing was making little progress, she used her right foot to lunge to her left, biting down on the forearm currently supporting Stephen's weight. She winced as she forced her jaw tighter, unsure what pressure will be enough to free her from his grip. As soon as she clamps down, she resumes her squirming. This time, she only kicks and bucks her hips, trying to roll him off her to her left.
 
He could see the tears collecting in the corner of her eye and he was just about to let her take a little break when she thrashed and bit his left forearm. White hot pain shot up his arm into his shoulder as her teeth sunk in deep, his body not ready for the sensation.

Rolling off to the left, aided by her bucking, he nearly flew onto the floor, hitting his shoulder on the corner of the bed and smacking against the wall with a thud. "Fuck!" he yelled, grabbing his arm in his free hand, liftongnit slightly and seeming that she had somehow not drawn blood, but her teeth marks were clearly visible.

Standing up, he was breathing heavily as he glowered at his now captive, that was the only way this would look now that she had bitten him if someone were to break in. Leaning one knee onto the bad, he cocked his right hand back and punched Taylor in the side of her abdomen, almost in an uppercut fashion. "Looks like it's time for your first lesson."

Standing back up, he went to his bag and pulled out his belt that he used for his pants. Wrapping it around his fist, he left about six inches of it loose and stepped next to the bed. Reaching out, he dragged the tip of the loose end of the belt across her legs, before raising his arm and sticking down hard, letting the smack of leather on skin ring out into the otherwise empty room.
 
Taylor looked up at Stephen like a deer in headlights. Her chest heaved from the efforts of pushing him off her, and now she did her best to squirm and roll off the other side of the bed. She managed to flip once, twice, then a sudden impact in her gut pushed the remaining breath from her lungs. She let out a small wheeze and curled up in the fetal position, protecting her stomach. That's it. She wasn't getting out of this.

She held still, eyes held shut tight as she waited for the beating sure to come. Goddamnit that was stupid. She listened to the familiar jingle of a belt buckle and tensed up, curling up smaller still. The threat of metal on skin made her palms break out with sweat. The touch along her legs, though, was only cool leather. Just as she hoped this beating would be easier on her, the leather cracked across her skin with a snap. She jumped, ducking her head tighter into her chest. The only sound Taylor dared make now was the shaking of her breath.
 
The welt was already starting to form as soon as the leather was gone, the little triangle impression was now a 3-D bump that if he chose too, could feel with the lightest of touches. When she stopped squirming, he held back another swing. Looking down at his arm, flexing his hand a couple times, letting the pain become pleasure as he got used to the feeling, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I told you, this would be easier if you just let it happen, but I also knew you were a fighter and not to expect that from you. Very well then. Rule one. I am your entire world. You will not do anything without my express permission. You need to use the restroom? You ask me. You need to call a friend? You ask me. Your only goal for each day will to please me. Fail to do so, and you will get punished. I assure you, each infraction will only add to your pain and increase in intensity."

He sat next to Taylors body and placed his left hand on her thigh, just above the welt. The heat radiating off it already was intoxication and he wanted to make another. "Do you agree to rule one?"
 
Taylor held still, waiting for the next strike. When it didn't come, she began relaxing her muscles again. Shoulders first, down away from her face, then the fists behind her back. She rolled her wrists in the restraints while he spoke. One made the quiet pop of air escaping a joint. She stopped here, and kept her legs curled firmly against her chest. She would not risk another hit to the gut.

Her body rose and fell with breathing that slowed as he spoke. The touch of his hand was cool on irritated skin, soothing the pink scream that formed on and around the welt. She nodded, which to him was probably a lot more like a shift of hair against her knees. The restraints on her wrists kept her from fighting, but those on her ankles guaranteed that she could not flee without instantly tripping, or incapacitating him first. He was stronger than her by a long shot. Taylor knew she'd have to wait, play along, until the restraints were off. If he takes them off. If she catches a moment to put herself between Stephen and the door. But for now, she'll play along.
 
"Rule two. You will address me in a manor that shows my authority over you. Sir, Master, etc. Whichever one yoi would like. And when I ask you a question, you will acknowledge it verbally. Yes, Sir. No, Sir. Obviously replace the sir with whatever you choose.

"Rule three. What happens while we are together stays between us. Whether you believe it or not, there are those around campus that would gladly trade places with you willingly. You think the way you'll be treated by just rumors of us being together is bad, just imagine how it will be if you start talking about what we do."

Standing up once again, he raised the belt above his head and brought it down with as much force as the last time. The leather smacked against Taylor's thigh just an inch off to the left. "That was for breaking rule two when I asked if you agreed to rule one. Now, do you understand rules one through three?" he asked, an edge to his voice, knuckles tightening around the belt within his grasp.
 
She listened quietly, a mental image placing his voice where she imagined he was standing. The image in her mind was angrier than the Stephen before her. She wasn't sure if she'd be capable of speaking right now- her mouth felt dry, tongue foreign and distant from its surroundings. She licked her lips, brushing against the damp patch that her drool had made on the sheets.

His voice seemed to fade as he continued, dulled behind a veil of anger. Of fucking course she was reporting him now! By the end of the night, she'd have some kind of evidence, maybe bruises, and she could-

Then Taylor remembered the articles she had dug through last night. Plenty of them proved that fighting this was fucking impossible. The tweets that spread around about the women that slept with Torbel were fucking nasty, mean and slanderous. Her mind was flooded with reminders of these, off-hand comments, Snapchat stories, and she curled up tighter as if trying to get away from these. When the belt cracked across her skin again, she jerked back, cried out, and her eyes flung open. She looked up at him again, tears sprung, and opened her mouth to speak. She choked on a sob, nodded again, then rasped "Yes, sir."
 
Stephen just watched as she held back crying, no emotion betraying his happiness inside that she replied proplerly. There was that small part of him wishing she had defied him again, but he had his own personal rules. She had obeyed and she would be rewarded.

"Very good. You are a smart woman, Taylor. One doesn't get where you are without realizing that the world isn't as black and white as they taught you in grade school. There are so many shades of grey to every situation. One day, you will willingly sign an agreement that we have entered into a sexual arrangement, chalk full of all sorts of explicit descriptions of what that entails. But until then, you will train to be the good little girl I know is hiding inside."

Bending down, he pushed Taylor back into the middle of the bed so she couldn't fall off and hurt herself. Stepping back to his bag, he pulled out a small black toiletry bag. Unzipping it, he pulled out a small piece of gauze and a lidocaine salve.

"Don't struggle, I am going to take the pain away, for a little bit," he said softly, sitting on the bed, one leg curled under him, next to Taylor's scrunched up body.
 
As soon as the immediate shock faded, Taylor dropped her gaze to the sheets. She didn't like what she saw in his eyes, and he didn't command her to look at him... yet. She breathed deep through her nose while she listened to him. Her focus remained solely on his words and taming the pain flaring on her thigh. An agreement suggested long-term, sticking with this. She fought against the intrusive memories of the gossip she had heard. Gossip was harmless. She had no idea what those girls really went through. If she could-

He pushed her back into the center of the bed, and Taylor braced herself for a new strike or stroke. Instead, he stepped away and retrieved something new. Some new whip no doubt.

Then his voice was gentler, and all he did was sit next to her. She froze, muscles still tight. Her head ducked a little closer to her body, afraid he might pull her hair again. She held still, as requested, but otherwise refused to move.
 
He shrugged off the fact she didn't acknowledge him with a 'yes, sir' because she probably figured it was on with questions since his wording might have been a little ambiguous. He pulled the lid off the creme and dipped his finger to pull out a healthy heap of the off-white stuff with the consistency of Vaseline. He softly wiped the clump onto her skin between the two welts and then slowly began spreading it around with his fingers, making sure to cover every inch or reddened skin.

"I'll give you this one and only warning. Rule two applies to questions and commands. Hurting you does cause me pleasure, but I am not a monster, I would much rather have you obey than strike you. Keep that in mind, please."

Stephen's voice was one of nurturing, like a mother or father would use when they were tending to a sick child. "Rule four. When I text you to come over, you will drop whatever you are doing and come as soon as humanly possible."

He placed the gauze over the welts, just barely big enough to cover both, and then reached for the bag and pulled out a roll of medical bandage and tape. Lifting her leg, he wrapped the bandage around several times, keeping the gauze in place firmly, before ripping it free from the roll and taping it down, making sure it would hold. Replacing everything in the bag, he placed it on the nightstand and then laid down next to Taylor, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in tight. "Do you understand?" he whispered into her ear, taking a deep breath of her fragrance in through his nose.
 
The sigh was audible as he soothed the burn. Tears slipped freely now spilling down her nose, to the sheets. She took a deep, shaky breath, then opened her eyes to bring them up to him again. Rather than meeting his gaze, she watched his movements. HIs hands, first soothing the injuries he left, then wrapping them to keep from further injury. His careful, methodical process steadied her erratic breaths. Her mind began to clear again.

He was gentle, kind now, but her skin still throbbed under the gauze, the headache had only intensified, and if she flexed her abdomen, the pain flared. She closed her eyes to avoid betraying her emotions- far too many were clear already but she couldn't fight her reactions. She rubbed her wrists together, relieving some of the aching, then nodded gently against him. "Yes, sir," she said, quietly but clearly.
 
"Good," he replied back, kissing the back of her head. He moved his hand up and cupped one of her breasts, massaging it gently, feeling her nipple harden against his palm. Taking another deep breath, he felt his bulge come back in his underwear and he pushed it against her ass, her hands pressing against his stomach.

"Tell me something you've never experienced in bed but have always wanted to try? I assure you, you won't be disappointed."

He knew no matter what he did to her sexually, she wouldn't enjoy it...yet. But in time she would come to miss his touch and come begging for it. They always did. His massaging became harsher as his blood began throbbing throughout his body, the sound in his ears becoming almost deafening.
 
For a moment, Taylor sank into the pleasure that seeped in as he toyed with her nipple. Then she felt his cock pressing against her, only a thin fabric protecting her from this, and she fought the urge to bite him again. Instead, she swallowed and parted her lips to speak. At least it was an easy answer. "I- I've never had a guy go down on me." She held back a smirk, sure that he'd dismiss this with some sort of "My pleasure is priority" monologue.

She squirmed gently in his grip, not pulling away but shifting against him. Taylor could feel his heartbeat, quickening with each passing minute, in the throbbing of his cock against her. She bit her lip to bite something.
 
"That is a shame and something we will have to fix," he said, releasing his grip of her breast, sad to not feel it in his hand. Shifting himself so that his knees were next to her back, he grabbed the knots around her legs and started undoing them.

"Try to kick me, that punch earlier will feel like a fly bite compared to the next one," his voice returned to the gruff commanding tone he had taken with her in the bathroom. When the last knot was untied, he rolled Taylor onto her back and spread her legs, running his fingers downward until they stopped on the crease of her legs and crotch.
 
Better than she had anticipated. Much better. Taylor waited patiently, trying to keep as still as she can to keep from disturbing him while he freed her from half of her restraints. "Yes sir," she muttered in response, watching the knots slip loose. Once the last knot came free, her eyes narrowed and she watched him, glancing a moment at the door. Goosebumps raced up her leg to her hips, meeting his touch at her crotch. She took a final look at him, tilted to her left a second, then used that tiny bit of momentum to roll to the right, off the bed, where she immediately scrambled to stand with hands behind her back. The carpet dug into her skin as she got to her knees, leaving rug burn an ankle. She rose to her knees, Stephen's movements unregistered in her peripheral, and planted a foot on the carpet to bolt for the door.
 
It took a few heart beats to realize what was going on, especially since she had said 'yes, sir.' The thud on the ground jolted him to action and just as she was rising up on her fet, he swept his leg at her exposed midsection in a round house kick. His foot made a sickening sound as it connected just above her navel.

Quickly pivoting and shuffling to block the door way, he just stood there, fists clenched by his side as he watched his now prey. "Get up! If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you shall have! I tried being nice but I guess you would rather do things the hard way."
 
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