Kirsten found a new direction in her life following a talk with her birth father and a well-paid job prospect in the art world. She decided to take her father’s advice and gain a History of Arts degree, which would mean four years of hard work and a move from the west coast of Scotland to St Andrew’s on the east coast, almost two hundred miles away.
Kirsten loaded her belongings into the three-year-old Mini Cooper her father bought her for her twentieth birthday. As her stepfather, Callum, watched her pack, he said, “You may be moving away, but you remain my slut. I control you; remember that.”
Kirsten was the first to arrive at the flat she would share with three other students. All the rooms were the same inside: a bedroom with an on-suit bathroom and a small study area with a desk and Wi-Fi set up. The flat also had a large room with easy chairs and a good-fitted kitchen; the three other students turned up one girl and two guys over the next few days.
“Today, I have joined the Art Society and the Photographic group. I don’t want to commit to too many things as I still have to consider the coursework, which is why I am here,” she said to herself. “I met a guy who said he had opportunities to supplement the student loan. It is mainly photographic work, although he said he could get me video work if interested. I left it with him, and he said he would contact me. I hope he does X-rated stuff.”
Back in her room, Kirsten dressed in a crop top and a mini skirt and headed to a nearby coffee shop. Sitting at the table, she got a few admiring looks from young male student types, but not from the type of person she hoped to meet. She wondered what people would think if they knew of the things she did back home on the West Coast.
Just then, she caught sight of a tall man about fifty years old with greying hair dressed in tweed trousers and a corduroy jacket with leather patches on the elbows. He had to be a teacher at the university. He then entered the coffee shop. A while later, he exited carrying a coffee and a plate with a pastry, looking around for an empty table, but they all had people sitting at them.
Kirsten smiled at him, and as he moved towards her table, he stopped and asked.
“Sorry, miss, it is very crowded here today. May I take this spare seat?”
“Yes,” she confirmed and asked, “Are you one of the university’s teachers?”
“You could say that, young lady; I am the Arts professor at St Andrew’s,” he replied.
“Oh wow!” she cried. “That is the course I start next week if it is the history of arts you teach. I am Kirsten, happy to meet you, Professor.”
“I am Professor Mc Gregor, but you can call me Mc. All the other students do, and yes, that is the course I teach, so we will see a lot of each other.”
They finished their food and drinks, said goodbye, and said they looked forward to the new teaching year and parted.
As Kirsten walked away, the Professor admired her lovely figure, wondering if she would be a good student who could join him in extra lessons. He felt as though she looked familiar. But as yet, it did not click just where he had seen her.
Back at his large house at the edge of the town, he sat at his desk and turned on his computer with the thought of the lovely young student making his cock hard. He opened his hot young sluts folder and started flipping through the images till one popped onto the screen. It looked just like the girl at the coffee shop; clicking on it for a bigger image, a caption appeared: Kirsten, My Hot Slut of a Stepdaughter. There was also a link to a folder with a lot of hardcore pictures posted by her stepfather, Callum, and a contact email address. Looking at the images, they all followed a similar theme of older guys fucking her and cumming on her, then some BDSM images of her tied down being caned. He had to find out more about this young slut as he had a playroom in the basement that she would fit into nicely.
He emailed Callum, asking about his stepdaughter and what she was doing now. Almost thirty minutes later, he received a reply saying, “Sorry, she had moved away to start a degree course at university, and the fun sessions had stopped.”
Mc replied immediately, saying, “I have had the pleasure of meeting Kirsten today, and she is to be one of my students; I must say she was dressed like a slut at a coffee shop in town.”
Callum replied, “She is a slut, and she loves a firm hand as she can be a lazy girl but has an intense craving to have her cunt filled as much as possible. He then asked if you had the means to deal with her.”
Mc’s cock was getting hard, thinking of his toys in the basement playroom, some dating back to medieval times that he has yet to use on a willing subject.
On the first day of her degree course, Kirsten sat close to the front in the classroom, taking notes, dressed as she always did in a mini skirt and a tight-fitting top. This did not go unnoticed by her Professor as he smiled, talking in general about the course and what he expected from his students. As this lesson was the last that day, he ended it early and dismissed the students but asked Kirsten to stay behind.
When they were alone, he talked about how much he was impressed at the way she had been taking notes during his talk, saying that he could see in her a deep desire to learn and that each year, he ran extra lessons at his home for students that showed great promise, and asked if she would like to join him at his house that evening to work out an extended study plan and to view his private art collection.
This, of course, was just what she had hoped for one-to-one lessons with an older man that she could see had the hots for her and a chance to get fucked the way she liked. She noted his address and said she would be there at seven.
Back at her room in the flat, she showered and shaved her cunt, ensuring it was as smooth as possible. She wore a red G-string, a half-cup bra, hold-up stockings, a blouse she knotted under her tits, and a pair of three-inch high heels. Not wanting to drive, she called an Uber to get her there on time. The house was large, with a long drive that could park ten or more cars; as she exited the Uber, Mc came out and paid the driver.
“Oh my, you are a picture. You clearly like to show how artful you can dress; welcome to my home; come in, my dear,” Mc said, leading the way into his home.
The walls had many paintings, some old masters, others more modern. To the right was his large study with a desk, a few easy chairs, and a large Chesterfield settee. He offered a drink of wine, which Kirsten took, and they talked briefly about the extra coursework he could give, his eyes never straying far from her tits and lovely legs. Standing from his seat, he said, “I have seen you before we met the other day,” and turned around the computer screen to show an image of her naked, sucking a giant cock. “This is you. I have spoken to your dad, Callum, who confirms it is you.”
Kirsten replied. “Yes, it’s me, and for your information, Callum is my stepdad, not my real dad! So, yes, I am here so that you can fuck me.”
Kirsten continued, “Well, why do you think I am dressed like a slut? I have a thing for older guys that can fuck me hard and deep, is that you?”
“My dear Kirsten, your stepdad has told me how lazy you can be and that you need a substantial hand to keep you in line. I have a proposal for you. You can hear it and decide to accept it and its terms, or you can leave when you want.”
Kirsten looked at him, “Okay, let’s hear what you have to say then,” as she emptied her wine glass, putting it down on a side table.
Mc started with, “You are on a four-year degree course. If you decide on my terms, I can get you an honours pass in two years. Once agreed, there is to be no changing your mind. All the terms will be laid down, and we will sign them.”
Kirsten looked straight at him. “Okay, tell me how you plan to teach me a four-year course in two years and your terms.”
“Well, my dear,” Mc started, “I have a perfect doctor friend that helps me with Hypnotherapy that allows me to train young sluts to do my will and entertain my house guess, but from what I have seen of you and your stepfather’s reports, you do not need that to be my house slut.”
He added, “I propose that he adapts his treatment to program you with all the learning you need to get an honours degree in two years with Hypnotherapy and a sleep-induced education program. My terms are that you will live here in my house as my sex toy slut and do what I say without question.”
She followed him along a corridor and down some steps into a basement area. As the lights flickered on, she looked around the room; the scene she could see was a very well-fitted-out dungeon.
“Well, my dear Kirsten, what do you think of my playroom?” asked Mc.
She could see many ways that a person could be tortured down here, and she felt her cunt starting to get very wet. Turning to face Mc, she said, “I can see you like to inflict pain, and that is something that I enjoy, but I also like to be used by groups of men, not just one person all the time.”
Mc smiled. “That, my dear girl, will not be a problem. I have many friends who will only be too happy to join us here.”
Kirsten thought to herself, two years and then I can start earning my in life the way my father wants; how bad could it be to surrender to Mc to get what she wants?
As she walked around the dungeon looking at all the whips and ropes and the many sex toys, she stopped at a trolly with electrotherapy devices on it, clamps and rods with wires running back to the control box. She reached out, touching the box.
Mc asked, “Do you know how that works, my dear?”
“Yes, she answered, probes for my cunt and arse and clamps for my nipples. I have had this done to me by my stepfather but with a smaller setup.”
To be continued.