The Price of Innocence

Chapter 2

Innocence stretched her body in bed again. She was in no hurry to get up. Richard had already left for work and there was nothing that needed her immediate attention. She kicked off the sheet and then stretched her limbs to the four corners of the bed, leaving her unbound but in a spread eagle position and naked.

The public orgasm in class that day had indeed been humiliating. She remembered wishing she would die on the spot. But it had also been the beginning of a wonderful relationship.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," she blurted once they got back to his office after the class was finished. "I didn't try to do that. It just happened. I'm so embarrassed." She hung her head in shame.

Richard stepped up to her and lifted her chin with his finger. Then he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Why are you embarrassed, little one? That was a precious gift that you gave to me. It is something that I will always treasure."

Her eyes were brimming with tears and she sniffled once. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You were simply beautiful."

She leaned forward and buried her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around her, holding and comforting her until the sobbing died away and the tears dried up. He caressed her back softly until she was ready to go on.

"As I said, Cency," he said after she had composed herself. "There is nothing to be ashamed of. You are a priceless treasure. You have the soul of a slave girl. I have never met anyone who is so responsive."

"I'm not sure that's such a good thing, Professor," she replied. "I never aspired to be a slave."

"A submissive, then," he corrected himself. "There's nothing wrong with gaining pleasure by giving someone else control."

She tilted her head back and looked up at him. Her eyes were clear now. "Really?"

"Really," he assured her. "It's perfectly natural. You have a rare gift but it's purely natural. You can call yourself a submissive or a bottom or a slave. The names do not matter. But as I said, you have the soul of a slave girl."

This time, when he spoke the words, he reached out and placed his hand on her left breast and held it there. He did not caress or squeeze. He just pressed lightly. "Today in class, it was your slave heart reacting."

Innocence stiffened slightly at the touch. It was not that it was unwelcome. In fact, it sent another thrill through her body. But it was surprising. She resisted the urge to look down and see how her nipples were responding. She could already feel them stiffening and figured they were displaying themselves in spite of the bulky sweater that she wore.

He saw her reaction but did not move his hand. One reason was that he liked what he felt. Innocence did not have huge breasts but they were ample and even looked generous on her slender frame. He enjoyed them even more the time that he felt them when she was braless in class but even through the bra and heavy sweater, they felt divine. The other reason that he left his hand there was to exert his control.

He was confident that she was naturally submissive. He was naturally dominant. He would move slowly but he intended to help her explore this newfound side of her personality. At least he hoped to.

"My slave heart," she whispered. She made no move to back away or to reach up and remove his hand. Instead, she lifted her eyes to his. He smiled back at her.

"Yes, little one," he nodded, "your slave heart." Then he sent her on her way. Her head was spinning as she walked back to the dorm. She was so confused.

She did not have a role in the next few classes but she attended them anyways. She thought that she should be exposed to everything that the students were if she was going to properly grade papers and exams.

She had no idea that the Greeks were as kinky as they were. The next class was dedicated to Greek deviant sexual behavior and she found herself blushing at the descriptions and at the images taken from friezes and pieces of pottery.

But the Greeks turned out to be amateurs compared to the Romans. The early Italians were purely decadent, bordering on perverted. The professor's lecture was drawn from Roman literature and handwritten accounts and again was illustrated with images from the period. She was especially amazed by the accounts of the orgy barges; floating palaces where every indulgence was allowed and no taboo went unexplored.

The lecture on the Inquisition described the darker side of sexual deviance and the professor again had images. For this period, he also had artifacts displayed in the classroom. An iron maiden stood beside the lectern and showed how a woman could be encased in the metal frame and tortured. Something called a pear was held up and described. When he turned the crank on one end of it, it would expand and he described how it would be put in a woman's vagina and could be expanded until it eventually ruptured her. Innocence shuddered at the thought of the brutality of that period.

"There are some modern day versions of some of the Inquisition's developments," he told the class. "Today's versions are not nearly as cruel and they are not intended to do damage but they are still used for some kinky play."

"An example is this beauty," he said as he held up what looked like a pair of pliers. "These were fastened onto a woman's nipples and tightened. It was an easy way to gain a confession. Today's versions are much smaller and much less damaging. But we will explore nipple clamps at another class."

Throughout the two weeks of the history lessons, Cency's head continued to spin. She kept wondering if she truly did have a slave heart and what that meant about her. She found that she was almost constantly aroused and she tried to understand that. And she wondered what she should do about all of this.