Yes Professor

He came at her with a wind behind his back, driving her forward through the space. They landed with a thump on the other side of the room, face down on the large bed. The force of their combined speed and strength bent the metal bed rails. The mattress and box springs bounced off the floor and settled with a groan. In the center of the crater they lay, momentarily knocked out by the blow. It was his cock that woke first. Warmth spread from under it and ignited the blood to pump. The cock woke the brain and the brain woke the body. He moved a bit, testing. The hips slid across her ass, then went in circles. The cock was rigid. Underneath him, her hips flexed up and down, pushing into the groin as it pressed down. The thin layers of material that separated the two bodies shifted and exposed a bare ass gyrating on the broken bed. In a matter of seconds the cock was bare. Grabbing the ass in two hands, he pulled it up to the ceiling and exposed the inner gems. Using one hand he stroked...

Content notice: The following story contains depictions of negative body image, weight stigma, and diet talk. I've done my best to portray these issues with empathy and sensitivity. Beauty comes in every size, and a joyous, fulfilling sex life is the privilege of anyone who wants one. That said, if you're someone who prefers to avoid such things altogether, you might try one of my other stories instead. The characters depicted in the following story are all 18 or above. One of the themes involves sexual liaisons between young adult women and much older adults in a position of relative power over them. The inclusion of this theme is for storytelling purposes only. It is not a comment on the advisability of such relationships in real life. The Author ~ M.U.F.F., Part IV I reach out with one soapy hand and cup the underside of his cock. I feel its weight, its warmth, its velvety skin. I have no idea what to do with it. Judging by the size of my own hand, I'd put it at five, ...

I'm a rule-follower, and I always have been. I guess you could say it's second-nature to me, and I think it's served me pretty well. I was recognized throughout my schooling for my perfect attendance; I was always rated the top athlete in the state for anything I tried; and I've worked my way up via reputational capital to atypical prestige in my professional endeavors as an adult. So again, I think it's fair to say that my rule-following nature has served me pretty well in most ways. And I fucking hate it. It may sound weird, but doing what I'm "supposed" to do always feels so fucking stifling, and that's mostly because doing what I'm "supposed" to means suppressing what I'm not. Almost like, every time I do something to conform to what's expected of me, I'm adding another shackle on the endless chainlink containing my darker desires. And trust me -- locking up and suppressing has been my constant state for as long as I...

Breeding the Pony Girl, Pt. 12 (This story is set in a world where legalized, non-hereditary slavery is commonplace for serious crime, unredeemed debt, or voluntary self-indenture. All characters who are enslaved or have any intimate/sexual contact with slaves are 18 years of age or older. This is fiction; no one should ever be deprived of free will, still less used sexually, without his or her uncoerced permission.) (The character of Nancy Bradford as well as her background appear courtesy of Mr.Smith27.) (Lois Spalding's Perspective) In the days after I came home from the annual Slave Expo, I thought long and hard about my own future. On the first day of the event, I had foolishly indulged my own submissiveness by appearing as Pony Girl Ginger, first as part of a slave team pulling a wagon in the parade and then acting as a "demonstrator" for the students of the new Slave Veterinary Medicine program at U.T. This involved hours of being edged while random visitors to t...

It's always the shy ones. Rosemary was bookish. Most people thought of her as shy. She was friendly, but she didn't socialize a lot. When she did, however, she was fun and excellent company. "I may not go out a lot," she said, "but when I do, I do it all the way." She chuckled a little. She was an attractive, well-proportioned woman of medium height, with short to mid-lengtth dark blonde hair. It framed her neck and face well. She had no particularly outstanding feature, but all of them were attractive. We had gone out a few times. Although she was generally reserved, she had dropped a few hints. One night we had gone out to dinner and for dessert, she ordered banana cream pie. "I like banana cream," she said with a wry smile. "Apparently," I replied, smiling back knowingly. Rosemary chuckled. She also blushed slightly. Rosemary would softly touch me on my arm and chest. She liked to fix my hair. Rosemary liked music. We went to a conce...

"Hang on, hang on, you said nine months? Nine? I've had a longer relationship with the coffee in my pantry," the tan businessman said to Nate as they laughed with each other across glasses of cheap beer. "You heard right." Nate ticked off fingers as he recounted. "Three years with his ex, right?" He lifted the first finger. "Break up in college," lifted a second finger. "Met his fiancee like four minutes later," ticked up his third finger. "Six months pass and they get engaged," he raised his fourth finger. "And getting married right here, this week," he shook his open palm towards the stranger before grabbing his beer dramatically and drinking more of it. "Did anyone tell them that's a terrible idea?" The businessman couldn't stop laughing, and it was rubbing off on Nate. Nate originally actually didn't think it was that silly, but this man, easily twice his age, had been friendly to talk...

All of my past stories on Literotica have involved women being enslaved. Enough of that for now. Many fans of my past stories, a small group already, will be disappointed by this work. It involves only domination of men by women. It's time for males to be put in their place even if it is harder for me to write about men as victims. Still worse, the story will probably not please many femdom fans. This story does not contain the standard fantasies of female domination that involve "mistresses" wearing black leather outfits and boots, calling men "sluts" or "bitches," making fun of smaller penises, sticking things up men's asses, enemas, or dressing men in women's clothing. I've never understood what a woman would get out of much of that unless she was being paid by the hour. But there are many things I do not understand. I do not judge anyone. This writing is largely a speculation regarding what many women would want if they were in contro...