Cookie Hugs

The following erotic BDSM story has themes of humiliation, control, raceplay and other darker themes. If such content offends you, please do not read. This is an erotic FICTION story not meant as any sort of gender, political or societal protest. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality. If you have issues with such kinks, please do not read.

"Camille?" a deep, almost scary voice calls my name as I sit in the waiting room of this strange building. I gulp as I hear my name, worried about what is going to happen.

The waiting room is dark, but I know it is on purpose. It's clear there's money here as there are no fluorescent lights but individual fancy LED lights that can be any color or brightness they want. So I know they keep it dark here on purpose to set the mood for what's to happen.

I sort of like it being dim in here as it lets me feel hidden. With there not being much light, my darker skin and clothes makes it seem that I can blend with the background. That I won't stand out.

"Y-Y-Yes, that's me," I say as I stand, looking at the man that's opened the door. I take a moment to look around the empty waiting room, figuring the man called for me in some sort of performative act.

"Follow me," the man orders in a stern tone, his dark eyes staring at me as if I am something to wipe from his shoe. The man, who is at least fix foot four and made of muscle even if he's fifty, looks at me as if he wouldn't mind hurting me if I don't move fast enough. To make sure this doesn't happen I nod once and then lower my head.

This building belongs to the group "Cookie Hugs." Yes, Cookie Hugs. It's meant to combine two of the best things possible to make it seem not like the creepy, scary organization it really is. And at first it worked as I was so excited when they first reached out.

Why am I here so late at night by myself? Because I violated the rules of my college scholarship. How did I violate the rules? You might think it was because I got drunk then tried to go to class, or maybe I got caught streaking across campus or something that other college students get caught doing. But no. I got a 99% on my last exam in Bio 1805 class. You read that right. I got a 99% instead of a perfect score.

Whenever you violate one of Cookie Hugs' rules, you have to go in for an official "review." But this isn't a review were a bunch of old white guys tell you to do better. No. Cookie Hugs makes you sign a waiver when you receive their scholarship. That waiver means they can do almost anything they want as discipline, as long as it doesn't constitute "torture" or cause death. And the rulebook made sure to state that all punishments are severe. That there is no such thing as mild.

That means the organization could legally lock you up in some basement and give you only milk to drink as food. Or make you hand-copy the entire bible for a month. Nearly any and everything is on the table, which is extremely scary. And there's an NDA so you can't even talk about what they do to warn others. Sure, you can walk away and they won't touch you, but you lose everything. The classes, the apartment, the supplies, everything.

Let me back up a little. My name is Camille and I am eighteen year old black woman who attends Darling Tech University, which is one of the top universities in the world in the field of Data Science, which is my dream field.

I come from a working class family that has never had much money, but not because of anything bad they did. My parents were not drunks or drug dealers, just working people that had to deal with the crap life gives you. Each time they had a bit saved, some emergency would happen. Someone would run into the car. My brother would break his leg. And so on.

This is one of many factors that has led me to work a hundred times harder than my classmates. It let earn my way to be the top of my class, grade and school. Each time I looked at my parents having to work two jobs to keep everything together and swore their sacrifice would not be in vain. One day I'll make enough to make their sacrifice worth it.

What most people don't realize is that when you focus solely on studying and schooling, you get limited, socially. Not that I care too much. Unlike others, I am not able to talk people into doing what I want, or appear to be anything than the bookish woman that I am. That is who I am, and how I am. So what if I've been called nerd, or boring, or the human version of white bread? I'm going further than anyone that dared mock me.

I bet you are wondering how I got mixed up with Cookie Hugs. In my last year in high school, a recruiter for them reached out to my family. They called both parents and were very polite and professional. I had never heard of them before, and when I researched them the only thing I found was a few people showing remorse for being declined by them.

After setting up an appointment, a recruiter came to our house and presented everything. They explained how they are funded by a group of private investors that offer scholarships for extraordinary students. Students that they feel will change the world, or to put more bluntly, make them a lot of money by making inventions, getting patents and whatnot. The catch being, they will receive 2% royalties on anything I patent or copyright for the rest of my life.

The thing from the beginning about Cookie Hugs is they are strict. Like, really, really strict. They made that known from the first meeting. They offer a free ride at college, all the way to your PHD but they have a rule book of things you can and cannot do. Most of the rules are what you would think, like not getting arrested or doing anything of poor moral character that would make them look bad. But some of the rules are strange and put there to make sure you read all the guidelines.

For example, one rule is that before I enter any building on campus, I have to stop, look up at the top of the building, then slowly turn in a circle. Only then can I enter. And yes, doing this makes you look stupid but you learn how to do it subtly.

Or how if someone says my name three times in a row, I am to bend over and act like I'm picking something up off the ground. Thankfully, this hasn't happened to me, yet.

And the rule I find the weirdest, on Fridays I am required to either wear a thong as underwear or to not wear any underwear at all. There's no other qualifiers on this, such as I have to wear a short skirt, which I could see them doing to be perverted. But no. You are free to dress however other than the underwear part.

Following the stern looking old man, I walk through the door and into hallway. There he walks tense as a terminator, not saying anything. I expect to walk a great distance, but he stops after just a few feet as there's another door which I hadn't noticed. This door is meant to be overlooked as it is painted like the wall.

"Knock," the fifty year old man orders while motioning at the hidden door. He tells me to do this not because I won't figure it out, but because it is another rule of the Cookie Hugs. If you are told to knock on a door by a member, you have to go through a mini-ritual.

"Permission I request, humbly as I do," I say loud enough for him to hear, then knock four times on the door.

"Come in Camille, please," a rather pleasant sounding male voice says from behind the door. To this I open the door and walk in.

I'm not sure what I expected when I opened the door, but it isn't this. The room is empty except for a small table/desk smack in the middle which could double as a student's desk, as well as an open safe in the left wall, and a podium in the front of the room. And behind the podium is an older gentleman who smiles at me like a grandfather, except he wears a dark red robe, complete with a hood.

"Come, come," the older gentlemen greets as I enter, his smile oddly warm for the locale. I walk in towards the desk, in which the stern man in the hallway slams the door before he leaves that makes me jump.

"My name for you is Punish Two," the man behind the podium introduces, motioning to himself.

"I know, I know, weird name. Weird clothes. Silly name. But secret societies love to give titles and make things seem weirder than they need to be," the older gentleman says and chuckles as he motions to the silk creepy robe he is wearing.

Something about the way he says this concerns me. He is trying to put me at ease which only worries me more. I would feel better if he was upset or if I knew he was lying or putting on a show.

"If you do not mind, please stand at the table," Punish offers, motioning to the single table in the middle of the room.

Nodding, I move behind the table, which looks incredibly old, but valuable. Something about the desk looks polished and refined, like it belongs in Shakespeare's time. It is worn down in places but looks oddly charming. Despite how it looks, standing behind it still makes me feel as if I am on trial.

"So you got yourself in trouble," Punish says with a lighthearted smile towards me.

"I know how scared you must be. How disappointed. If you are anything like the others, you have never been in trouble in your life. Never spoke out of turn, never cheated, never even talked back to your parents," Punish offers in his disarming manner.

I look at his eyes for a moment then turn to look away, oddly embarrassed. For some reason I feel embarrassed that he knows what I am feeling. That he can compare me with others. And that for some reason I feel that these traits are bad, when they should be cheered.

"There are three of us. Three of those that Punish our members, and you will find I am not like the other two," Punish Two explains and I can tell he believes this is important. But knowing human nature like I do, I get the feeling this means he is the worst of the three.

"Where the other two Punishes distribute their discipline without any fanfare, I prefer to let my charges know why they receive the punishment that they do. Just as I like them to know exactly why they are here at Cookie Hugs," Punish says and this makes a knot in my stomach form as I know I'm right about him being the worst.

"When I received notice about your infraction, I made sure to read your file like I do with everyone. I'll leave out the part where I am impressed by what you have accomplished as to be honest, everyone in the organization is impressive," Punish says casually but stern.

"Being as smart as you are, I am sure you have read all the provided documentation, no doubt memorizing most of it. So you know why the organization reached out for you to join. Why don't you go ahead and give those reasons, out loud?" Punish offers, motioning to me.

"I... I... well," I begin, finding myself very much on edge. Not because I don't know the reasons or that it feels like a test, but because I know this is leading to something else.

"I was selected because I scored in the top 2 percent of graduates in my city, finished first in my SAT session, am from a lower income family, and am a female minority," I tell Punish the reasons as stated from the guidelines.

Punish gives me a look that I can't read after hearing this. I was expecting him to nod and say, "that's correct," but he doesn't. Instead he gives a look that looks disappointed, or maybe frustrated.

"Camille, don't bullshit me. Say what you mean, mean what you say. Remember that. Best advice you will ever get and it'll make you go far in life," Punish says with an air of an old man that doesn't have time to waste.

"Tell me the real reasons you were selected," Punish says in a much sterner tone, like I am lying and we both know it.

I feel myself tighten up more as I know exactly what he is referring to. When I got selected, I wondered if there were any other reasons why Cookie Hugs may have wanted me. After all, there surely were better candidates. More social ones. Ones that are charming or could win beauty competitions. Not frumpy, tomboyish, socially awkward me.

So I read everything the organization gave me. Every book, blurb and pamphlet. Ninity nine percent didn't give me anything. But then in a "About Us," section, they listed several "famous" graduates of Cookie Hugs to show how far they had gone. These people wouldn't be famous in the sense they are movie stars or influencers, but anyone in their respective fields would know who exactly they are.

As it is my nature to find patterns, I looked at what commonalities these graduates had before they came to Cookie Hugs. Looked into their upbringings, personalities, social habits, quirks and more because I wanted to see if there was something more.

I did find ways the women were connected, but never spoke it aloud or even typed it. Just thoughts in my head that I have no way of knowing are true or not. The sort of thoughts you don't want to say as it would sound accusing, possibly evil or downright silly. And that is exactly what he wants to hear.

"I believe I was selected because I have a personality that would be considered shy or timid, I dress conservatively, my height is under five foot four, and have a bust size that would be considered larger than normal," I tell him, my face reddening as I talk about my bust size in such a sterile manner. Actually, any talk of my bust size makes me embarrassed as it isn't something I like to discuss.

"Very good. Most of the others don't catch as much as you have. I see the organization was smart to find you," Punish tells me with a smile that only makes me feel more concerned.

"But... there's one aspect that I know you have considered but probably don't want to articulate," Punish says.

"It's an aspect that young ladies always leave out when speaking to an older gentleman such as myself. Sexual experience," Punish offers.

I gulp when he says this, as he's right. I do believe it was one of the reasons I was selected, but couldn't find the courage to say it. I mean, I'm not a virgin or anything but I'm also not banging people or getting banged every week. From what I saw of the others, this seemed true for them as well, but it's not like I could know for sure without having an embarrassing conversation with them.

"Your sexual experience," Punish repeats as if knowing the conversation I just had with myself.

Something about the way he says this makes my face flush red. An older man mentioning me having sex makes me feel strange. Hell, anyone talking about my sex life would make me feel weird. But it is more intense with him discussing it.

"Believe it or not, Cookie Hugs exists to make you into the best version of yourself. To prepare you for life, so when you leave you this university, you are unleashed on the world with every ability unlocked," Punish informs.

"There are no secrets with Cookie Hugs. No one is going to kidnap you and sell you as a sex slave, or make you make the next strain of cocaine to fuel the drug trade. They won't even make you take part in an Eyes Wide Shut orgy," Punish explains still behind his podium.

"We exist to unleash the real you, all of you," he finishes quietly. He lets this hang in the air for a bit, where I'm not sure if I'm to say something or not. If I wasn't so timid, I would ask what this means because I honestly don't know.

"There's just one problem with unleashing all of your potential, well a problem for people like you," Punish resumes and for a moment I feel my face tighten. A brief surge of anger hits, outweighing my other feelings. He better not be meaning black women. Whenever a white guy says, "people like you," it never is anything positive.

"You are scared of sex. Scared of yourselves. Scared of what you want, sexually. Scared of what you wish to feel. Scared of your own bodies," Punish explains, sounding very passionate.

"I... I'm not," I try to argue but I don't even believe me. The words come out soft and weak, where I think I would have made a better impact if I farted. It serves to make me look away, tears stinging my eyes as it feels like I am being attacked.

Several long moments pass in silence. Moments where Punish stares at me, wanting me to say something. I am not sure how I know, but I just know he wants me to agree. To tell him he is right and I am scared of sex. Scared of my own body.

I've always been studious, so dressing up or feeling sexy isn't something I do. The sexiest thing I've ever done is put on an old skirt of mine that barely covered anything and took a picture. But the moment I saw it I deleted it as I didn't like the way I looked. Didn't like how ridiculous it made me look, especially as my bust size looked comical in the white button down t-shirt I was wearing.

I know it is low self-esteem that makes me feel this way as I'm healthy and in good shape. Sure, there are a few extra pounds on me, mainly on top, but nothing that prevents me from doing anything. Hell, I make sure to workout twice a week in my room, alone.

"Camille, you are here because you have broken the scared rules of this organization. You are to achieve a perfect score on every exam while your tuition and lodgings are paid for by the organization," Punish then states in a commanding manner. The warm grandpa tone is gone and a stern, almost evil tone replaces it.

"The organization has put its faith and trust in you, and you have failed it. Because you have broken the sacred rules, you are to be disciplined," he continues in what sounds like a ceremonial tone.

"I... I understand," I reply, knowing this is what I am supposed to say thanks to reading the rules. I could request a hearing but there's no point. The evidence is against me. There's no changing the exam score.

"Remove all of your clothing and lock them into the safe," Punish orders, pointing at the open safe that's on the left wall.

"WHAT?!" I shriek in reaction.

I wasn't sure what I expected to be the punishment, but getting naked wasn't one of the options. Even with the sex talk, I didn't consider this at all. So hearing it feels like a punch right in the boob.

"Do we have an issue Camelle? Are you refusing to receive your sentence?" Punish asks sternly, knowing what this means. In fact, I can tell he was waiting to say this.

If I say yes that I am refusing, I am cut off. Completely. I'll be removed from the organization and most likely the university. No funding. No housing. No nothing. All my academic hopes dashed.

"N-No," I answer after a moment, knowing there's not much of a choice here. I say this without meaning it as I know it is what I am supposed to say.

"Then remove all your clothing until you are completely naked," Punish orders slowly, saying the words slowly so they sink in.

I sway for a moment as I come to terms with what this means. He wants me to undress in front of him. To get naked so he can see every part of me. To make me become vulnerable and helpless with him holding all the power. In short, to let an old white man see all of my black naked body.

Feeling very strange and not like myself, I walk around the desk and towards the safe. My steps are unsteady, making me feel like a zombie or maybe a toddler. The air seems to change to become colder, and my head feels lighter, as if I've been drugged.

When I reach the safe, I look around the room, feeling like a million people are in here with me. But no. It's me and the old man, that's it. So why does it feel like a hundred million eyes are watching me?

In a daze, I untie my tennis shoes, then remove them, and then my socks. Going slow I place my socks inside my shoes then place them inside the empty safe. I gulp after doing this, seeing how small they look while in the safe. This makes me feel even more vulnerable.

On purpose I turn so I don't have to see Punish watching me. I move so my back is to him, not that it really matters as in the end, he'll see everything. But for right now, I don't want him to see my face as I am made to do this. Or should I say, while he is making me do this.

I unbutton my jeans and close my eyes. Once my jeans are open, I pull them down, where my face reddens, not just at the fact the old man sees my panties and legs, but he sees what panties I'm wearing. For I have on ridiculously cute Black Panther panties that I ordered online. Panties that are not sexy but cute and reflect my personality, further accenting how little sexual experience I have.

As I step out of my jeans, there's no way to pretend that he doesn't notice them. Just like there's no way to pretend he doesn't see all of my bare legs. Or that I am basically half naked now.

Still stalling by folding my jeans over and over, I force myself to put them in the safe. As I do, I am not sure if I want him to say anything about my panties or not. This entire situation has made me feel very strange and I'm not sure what to do. It only makes the dazed/drugged feeling get more intense.

With my jeans in the safe, I lift the bottom of my t-shirt. I find there's no point in going slow, so I pull it up and over my head, exposing my black sports bra as my hair moves through the head-hole of my shirt. I pull it all the way off, now showing off just how large my bust is as the baggy t-shirt hid most of it.

Unlike my jeans that I folded, I just toss my t-shirt in the safe. I toss it with anger, as if it betrayed me by having to come off.

I pause as going any further is going to have a powerful effect. If I remove either my bra or panties, there will be no pretending this didn't happen. I will have to live with the fact that I showed my naked body to an older man. A stranger. An old white guy getting to see my much younger body.

"Damn it," I curse, knowing I need the scholarship. It's the only way I'll get my degree. I can't even get student loans because my family doesn't make enough.

But thinking this doesn't feel right. I feel a flash of anger, but it isn't just from being forced to do this. It's a very confusing feeling, but in part I think a part of me wants to do this, and that's what makes me angry. That there is some dark, tiny, hidden, horrible part of me that is starting to feel excited. And that's a part of me I want to shove down and lock away.

With a flash of anger from having to be honest with myself, I reach for my bra and lift. Upset and humiliated, I grab my bra and yank it off, setting my breasts free. They bounce free, again feeling comically as they are so heavy. My anger continues when I throw the bra in the safe, seeing it hit the back wall of the safe.

My bare breasts are now exposed. Not just exposed, but jiggling, swinging and bouncing all around with each and every moment I make. Feeling each and every movement makes my face even redder as I start feeling like a big-boobed freak for some reason.

After my bra is in the safe, I know there's no point in waiting so I grab the waistband of my panties. There I yank them down, knowing the old man can see my bare ass now. To make the feeling worse, I almost fall over, making me reach out and hold onto the wall where my tits swing for a moment at almost falling.

With closed eyes and a deep humiliation, I pull my panties to my ankles and try to step out of them. When I do, I know it is the most unsexy sight the man has ever seen as I basically stomp to get out of my underwear, humiliated as my bare womanhood is exposed.

Naked. I'm naked. That's the only thing I can think of as I put my panties in the safe and close the door. I attempt to slam the safe door, but it is far too heavy so I can't. This makes me feel worse as it accents that once it is closed, there's no way to open it.

A moment later, the door shuts and I hear the latch click. That sound makes my head pulse, knowing there's no way to get my clothes now. I'm naked, exposed and helpless. If I want to escape, I will have to do it naked, where the world will see me at my lowest.

"I... I did it," I tell Punish, wanting to scream and curse as I still face away from him.

I use one arm to hold my breasts as tight as I can and the other hand to cup my womanhood. Doing this makes me shudder as I touch my pussy lips. I don't do it in a sexy manner at all, but it still sends a jolt over me as it makes me tingle in that dark way that goes to my toes.

"You did," Punish states in an unimpressed manner. Like I did the bare minimum of what was required.

"Now, stand in front of me, lifting both hands up as high as they will go while maintaining eye contract with me," Punish orders in his stern manner.

"But..." I stammer in a high pitched whine, feeling like I was punched in the gut again. I knew more was going to happen, but not something so humiliating. Why make me feel so pathetic and stupid? Is he going to touch me? Take pictures? Grope me? Fuck me?

"S-S-Sir... I, I..." I start as I slowly start to turn to face him. With a red face I take slow steps until I am about five feet away from him.

My mouth opens and closes but I don't know what to say. Am I asking him not to do this to me? Or do I want to ask what he is going to do? Or do I ask anything at all? He has the power here, I don't. Nothing I say or do is going to change what he wants.

I recognize what is really going on here. This is to show me how it feels to have no power at all. To be completely out of control while being in control. That it is up to me to give up power and hand it to him by doing as he wants. I can stop this and we both know it, but if I continue it is telling him I give my control to him, where he is going to continue to embarrass and humiliate me.

The first tear rolls down my cheek as I lift my arms and expose myself. It rolls down, born of anger, fear and dark arousal. Where I feel the air on all of my skin, making my body tingle with a sexual thrill I didn't know existed. It makes my body feel cold and vulnerable, except for my face where I feel it burn hot in shame and submission as he sees EVERYTHING as I reach so high I feel my arms stretch.

"Good girl," Punish says mockingly and I know he does so because he knows it'll hurt me. And boy does it ever. My face burns so red that for a moment I think I may have a stroke.

"Keep those arms up until I say otherwise. Don't want you covering anything," he adds on, knowing how much I hate this.

I stand as he orders, my head turned as I can't look at him. I just can't. Not when he's staring at me. Staring at me naked, when I am at my lowest. I can't even tell what part of me he is looking at, but I can feel his eyes over my body, looking at the young flesh he is probably wanting to exploit.

Then I remember he said to look him in the eyes. At this, I take a deep breath and move so I am looking at his face.

Damn it, I feel so strange. I feel... hot. Aroused. But scared. Terrified. It's like both blend together to get stuck in my throat. It makes me want to beg him to let me go and not tell anyone about this, while at the same time wanting him to make fun of my body for some reason. It's fucking maddening.

"Do you hate that I can see your big black tits?" Punish asks after about a minute of silence. A moan comes out of me after hearing this. A moan that comes from deep in my stomach and flows up, where only I can hear it. A moan that makes my womanhood very much tingle as I know I've become very wet.

"Y-Yes," I answer honestly, face reddening all over again.

"Why?" Punish asks. My mouth opens to answer, but no words come out. I open my mouth again and again, meaning to tell him why, but I can't will myself to do it. Some part of me doesn't let me speak. It doesn't let me be honest, because otherwise I would have to admit that I hate it the most because it has made me aroused.

"Good. Because for as smart as you are, I'm looking at your titties. Your funbags. Your big black boobies. And there's nothing you can do about since you locked up your clothes," Punish tells me, and again this hits hard, only it hits right between my legs. Another soft moan bubbles from within me, spiking the heat I feel.

"Now repeat what I just said," Punish orders very serious. This causes me to sway yet again as it is one thing to be naked, but another to admit how helpless and vulnerable you are. Especially as it is exactly what I want, but I am far too scared to admit it.

Each second that passes feels like an hour as he waits for me to do as he wants, but it is so hard. For the first time ever in my life, I feel how there's some reaction-based part of me refusing to let me move or speak, too scared of what it will mean if I admit the enjoyment of this. Like if I admit I like this humiliation, I will crumble and all will be lost.

"You can see my titties," I say in a soft, squeaky voice. Right after saying it, between my legs throbs intensely where I nearly reach down and touch myself. The emotional pleasure is so great my body sways as I never, ever thought I could say something so crude to someone like him.

"You can see my b-b-black boobs. My funbags. My big, fat titties... and there's nothing I can do about it," I say, looking him in the eyes when I do. After saying it, I hunch over slightly as a sharp pang of pleasure moves over my entire body as if I was touched. A clear physical movement that I know he saw.

"You do have big fat tits. They are nice. Big and full. Bet they bounce hard when you get fucked. I would think they look even sexier when you are bent over, taking it from behind, where they swing like crazy. Oh, how much fun it would be to see your head forced down when you are fucked like that, so they hit you in your underperforming face," Punish says very lewdly.

"Oh, I see from your reaction, you do not like me talking about your big black tits?" Punish asks with an excited tone, probably because I felt my eye twitch and my body jerk.

"I... I....," I try to answer but I'm just so overwhelmed. I try hard to answer him, but again there's a block in my mind stopping me.

"Go ahead and give those black funbags a shake. Make them jiggle and show how big they are," Punish orders, seemingly not caring that I didn't answer. Almost like he knew I wouldn't.

Then my mind alerts me to what he said he wants. It causes that extreme humiliation and panic to rise up, mostly from the glee in his voice. The utter joy at being in control enough to make me do something so humiliating. To turn me from one of the smartest people on campus to an object with large breasts to toy with.

"You want to do it, you know you do," I hear, but it isn't from Punish, but myself. I hear those words in my head as if they were spoken by someone else. Words that are true but I still shake my head NO anyway as if that will make it not true.

Only when I shake my head NO to answer myself, Punish sees. I see his face turn upset as it looks like I am refusing to do what he wants. Panicking yet again, I do what he wants. I move my shoulders back and forth, causing my breasts to start moving. It is slow at first, but I quickly put a great deal of effort, knowing I just messed up.

My breasts first jiggle, then bounce about as I humiliate myself for the old man. I keep going harder and harder, making them not just bounce about, but bounce around comically. My fear of saying NO as I did makes me put a great deal of effort and energy into this, where I somehow make my breasts bounce up, clap, then bounce down hard.

But he doesn't tell me to stop. I keep making my breasts do their comical dance, the seconds feeling longer than what they are. The hope it would be a few seconds leave as the longer I do this, the harder they bounce and the stupider I feel. Especially when their clapping starts to sound rhythmic.

"Look at them go," Punish finally says sometime later, saying it with a bit of a chuckle. His words cause me to move even harder, and I can't fully understand why.

"Alright, you can stop," The older man says a moment later, which I gladly do. When I do, my breathing is extremely fast, like I've run a marathon. But I know it isn't from the physical aspect of what I did, but the emotional. Where what I am feeling is trying to steal my breath.

"I bet those funbags are throbbing now. I can tell your nipples are hard. You no doubt want to touch them," Punish offers, motioning vaguely to my breasts as he talks about them as they are common objects and not a personal body part of mine.

My stomach drops when Punish moves from behind his podium. He steps to the side, then walks forward, coming right for me. He walks slow and steady, but seeing this makes me want to back up and run. My brain screams to run, but I know I can't. I then have to force myself to stand as I am, doing as I am told.

"You have a nice pussy too. Very sweet. Very innocent looking. It's a nice little black snatch," Punish tells me and with him so close I can't pretend I don't him looking down at my sex. His eyes look right between my legs where my freshly shaved womanhood feels on display.

"Oh, don't like me talking about your pussy? Huh? Too much for an old white guy to get to see that cute little black snatch?" Punish mocks, stepping right in front of me, making me actually whimper. Him being so close makes me physically cower and whimper as if my life is in danger.

"I can see your pussy, and you can't do anything about it. Maybe I'll take some pictures and show it off to my old white friends," Punish offers and panic hits.

"NO!" I protest uncontrollably while shaking my head in fear. When I do, I get a harsh wave of submission as I see in his eyes he is in control. Those eyes tell me I'm just an object. A body. Something to look at and laugh at and nothing else. Where all my smarts and grades mean nothing and if he wants, he gets to take pictures of me like this.

"Oh, you think you are in a position to say no?" Punish asks seriously.

"Just for that, ask me to take pictures of your lil black snatch," Punish demands. He then steps closer, his chest almost touching mine. If his hands were not behind his back, I'm sure he would be touching me.

"I.. I... please take pictures of it. I mean, please take pictures of my black snatch," I stammer out, extremely overwhelmed with him so close. I feel overwhelmed as a part of me really wants him to touch me, while another part screams that I don't want him to touch me. Where my head feels like it is swimming with all I am feeling.

"Good girl," Punish says mockingly, where I actually moan a little.

"I can tell you dislike me referring your cunt as a black snatch," Punish muses, backing up to give me space, allowing me to breathe.

"Before you try to rally any thoughts about me being unfair, allow me to remind you that all of your boyfriends have been white. Seems to me, if there was an issue, it might be because you like it pointed out that your skin tone is different than mine... and maybe don't want to admit it," Punish states.

My knees wobble and for a moment I really think I'm about to collapse. How did he know the two boyfriends I've had were white? I never put that on any application. Oh shit. Social Media. There's probably pictures of me with them that I never thought to remove. Evidence that would be easy to find for even the dumbest of dumbasses.

My entire body remains weak as it feels like he's pulled some dark thought out of my soul. I mean, I do sort of like being romantic with people who are a different race than I am. Not that I would ever admit that, but it is true. Something about the difference is arousing to me, not that I can explain it. But he's weaponing it. Almost like he's blaming me.

"Let us get to the reason you are here. Tell me. What do you think your punishment is going to be, huh Big Tits? What do you think is about to happen?" Punish asks, causing my heart to sink. I was thinking THIS was the punishment, but it's not. To him, the real punishment hasn't even begun. This causes my legs to wobble even more.

"Oh, you thought this was it? That all I was going to make you do is flash those huge tits and stand looking stupid?" Punish asks, bursting out laughing. It's an honest laugh, directed right at me, making me feel extremely stupid. My face reddens and my body squirms as I have never felt so pathetic as he keeps laughing his loud and powerful laugh.

"How dumb are you? No wonder you scored so low on your test," he says after his laughing fit. Here a flash of anger hits as I still got the highest score in the class. That I'm not some dumb cunt here to use my body to get ahead. I'm one of the smartest in the damn college.

"I think the punishment is that you are going to have sex with me," I state as clearly as I can, trying to show his laughter doesn't affect me. I know I fail at this, but I say it clearly anyway.

"How is that punishment? How does that correct your behavior? To me, getting fucked by white cock sounds like rewarding you," Punish says, now profoundly serious.

My mouth drops open. The thought of him having sex with me is the grossest, meanest thing ever. Yet he is acting like it is something I want. That it is something I was hoping for when it is the last thing I could ever want.

"You are going to be spanked. Whipped actually. That's what the punishment is going to be. But if you keep using that smart mouth of yours, it'll get worse," Punish then reveals, stepping in front of me again and staring down.

"W-W-W-Whipped?" I gasp, feeling the color drain from my face. I never thought of something that crude or horrible being done to me, ever.

"Yes. Whipped. Flogged. Spanked. However you wish to call it," Punish says, again making it seem like I'm so stupid I don't know English. He even shakes his head some, as if amazed at how stupid I am as he walks off.

"See. Sexually repressed. Never done anything kinky," Punish says while shaking his head.

"My guess is you have only ever sex in missionary, and probably sucked a cock or two, but liked it better when the guy went down on you instead," Punish muses, but I don't respond. Like a zombie I stay as I am, naked, with my arms up, still trying to come to terms with the fact I'm to be whipped.

"Wait... is this... is this... to give me more sexual experience?" I then ask, catching what he said. Suddenly his little speech at the beginning starts to click. The reason why this is being done isn't about actual punishment. That maybe this is more about some sick version of giving me more sexual experience.

"Bend over the table. Bend all the way, like you about to take it up the ass," Punish says after a beat, refusing to answer. To this I stare at him, feeling very strange, almost like I'm drunk.

After a few more moments, I turn and look at the desk/table. Now I see why it is in here. It's for me to bend over. It's a whipping table.

Barefoot and scared, I walk to it, feeling my bare breasts bounce with each step as I keep my arms in the air. As my legs are so weak, I walk slow and unsteady, still feeling like a hundred eyes are looking at me.

As I walk, I try to figure if this is to give me sexual experience. If so, then how? Or am I overthinking it? I mean, this really could be just a white asshole getting to take advantage of a younger woman, right? Could it really be that simple?

No. It can't. Not with the amount of money the organization is spending. If it was to use women like me, the rich assholes would probably be having sex with us every day. This is my first time here and it's been months.

Gulping, I move around the small table so I'm facing the podium. There I press my hips against it, the harshness of it feeling grounding. I didn't notice how much I wanted something to touch me until now.

Whimpering, I bend. I do it slow, feeling my breasts dangle down. Worse still, I feel my pussy lips opening as I bend. I've never felt them doing that before, but I feel it now. More and more I bend, until my forearms are on the table and my ass sticks out.

Humiliated, I see where my forearms are placed on the table. They are right over the worn down sections, showing I'm not the first to be bent over this table. Nor do I think I will I be the last.

The humiliation of knowing I'm just another in an extensive line stays with me, again making me feel like an object. Just a thing with a pair of tits and a pussy. That my smarts and awards mean nothing as I am naked and bent over, acting like I'm about to take it "up the ass" like his comment.

My breathing stays fast as I remain bent over as I've never done anything like this before. Not even for sex. I've wanted to as it seemed like it would be nice and dirty, but it never came up. But now, having to do it like this is... intense. It feels like everything important is on display and I can't do anything about it.

"Good girl. Let's hope you get at good at test taking as do looking pathetic while bending over," Punish says and laughs, knowing how it'll embarrass me.

My eyes close at this, where I accept more and more this isn't about punishment. He is, on purpose, humiliating me. Trying to break me or something. This is all calculated... but I don't know why. What purpose could this have?!

"You know, something... something isn't right about this," Punish says seriously after walking a slow circle around me. I can feel him staring at me the entire time, but I don't say anything. Finally I look up at him as I was letting my head dangle some, wondering what on earth he could want now.

"Oh, I know what it is," he then says and I watch him move back to his podium. There he looks at it, searching for something within it. Then he finds whatever and grabs it.

I see the item in his hand but don't recognize it. It's a long, white cord-looking thing about a foot long. At first I think it is what he means to whip me with, but it is far too small. It still looks like it'll hurt, bad.

"What... what is that?" I ask Punish as he returns, hearing the panic in my voice. There he walks directly past me and moves behind me.

"Shut up, cunt," Punish says sternly, putting a lot of emotion into the word "cunt." It's so fierce it stuns me and I go quiet.

"Hey!" I yelp in reaction to him grabbing my right forearm and yanking it behind me.

What gets me the most is how strong his hand feels. I thought it would be rough and withered, but it's not. It feels strong, and mean. So strong that he pins it painfully behind me, arching my back when he does.

"What... what are you doing?! That hurts," I protest as he pulls my other hand behind my back as well, pressing both against the small of my back. For a moment I consider trying to defend myself but I quickly stop this idea as I remember one word from him and I lose everything.

"Oh gosh," I pant breathlessly as I feel the cord or whatever it is looped around my wrists. He slides it over my wrists and tightens it, binding my hands behind me. I feel the cord pulled tight, making sure there's no chance of my hands getting free.

"There, that's better. Now your black ass is nice and helpless," Punish says and actually pats me on the ass. The feel of it makes me let out a brief shriek, as if he violated me horribly. I am not used to anyone patting my bare bottom.

Bent over, my body struggles in reaction of having my wrists tied. Uncontrollably I try to move my wrists and struggle harder when I am not able. This causes my body heat to rise like it is the middle of the summer as the dark tingle between my legs goes crazy. It makes me feel strange new emotions which I'm not sure how to interpret.

A new, fresh humiliation comes over me as I feel my body do something it has never done before. I'm not just wet, but very wet. So much so that I think I'm starting to... leak. This old man has made me so aroused that my sex is doing something it's never have before which is to leak down my thigh.

"Please... no," I whimper as Punish stands feet away and makes a show of undoing his belt. He slowly slides it off his pants, making a production of the tool he will use to whip me with.

I gulp a few times as I've never been whipped before. What is it going to feel like? How bad will it hurt? Will it possibly feel good? I mean, I've thought about it before, especially when watching bad porn videos. The savage, sexual promise of it... but that's porn and this is real.

"Look at you. Naked as the day you were born in front of an old man. Bent over like a whore and about to be whipped. How the mighty have fallen," Punish mocks, which hits me hard emotionally again.

I get such a strong feeling of sexual humiliation from that statement that I softly moan. It's a feeling that confirms this isn't about making me get better grades at all. It is about opening me up or changing me. To unleash something primal in me that I've held back.

"Now, repeat after me..." Punish says clearly, moving behind me where I can't see. For some reason not being able to see him makes me start to tremble.

"I've been a bad girl and deserve to be spanked," Punish states slowly, saying it with perfect diction so I can hear each word.

A part of me wants to laugh at hearing something so crazy. To laugh and mock him for wanting me to say something so stupid. To make a joke about it and call him out on his old man creepiness. But another part of me wants to say it. I want to say it and feel it to be real. To mean and have to say it. Oh, I want to say it.

"I've... I've been a b-b-bad girl and d-d-d-deserve to be s-s-s-spanked," I stammer, the words coming out extremely fast and on top of each other. They pour out, not sounding sexy at all, but nerdy as all hell. I cringe at hearing this, knowing I can't escape who I am.

I hear the rush of air before I feel the hit from the belt. He's doubled his thick belt and it strikes me right across both ass cheeks. When it lands, I feel the blow before I hear the crack sound it makes against my flesh.

"OUCH," I scream, the stinging hitting hard and fast. It makes my body jerk and my upper body rise, but somehow I keep myself bent. But my eyes open all the way and my mouth stays open as I know I must have a comical look on my face from the blow.

"Again," Punish orders, putting a hand on my lower back now, either to help him aim or to keep me down. Or both.

Feeling his hand has an oddly calming effect. Where I feel connected to him in a soulful manner. That we are not teacher and student, or old man and young woman, but sexual equals on different ends of the control spectrum. It too is a feeling I've never felt before.

Feeling the throbbing of my ass, I don't say anything, but not because I don't want to. Instead it feels like my heart is in my throat. It takes me a moment to calm down enough to speak as I fear I may have a heart attack. All of this is just too intense.

"I've been a bad girl and deserved to be spanked," I finally repeat, this time sounding more assure of myself. In a way, I think I almost sound sexy.

A moment later, he swats me with the belt, again. Only this time it hurts worse than before, but also less. It feels both better and worse, like I'm getting used to the pain, or maybe wanting it.

I feel very strange feeling my ass sting and throb. It's hard to describe as I don't like pain, but this isn't really pain. It feels more emotional than anything. I don't know how else to describe it. It's an emotional pain that moves over my center, causing me to feel that dark pleasure. Like the pain is pleasure but can't exist without the beauty of submitting.

Oh lord, what am I even saying now?!

"I've been a bad girl and deserved to be spanked," I repeat without having to be told and am whipped with the belt again. My body jerks from the blow but this time I let out a clear moan. The pleasure-filled moan echoes, showing that I have started to show that I enjoy what is happening.

"I've been a bad girl and deserved to be spanked," I repeat to Punish and each time I do, he swats my bare ass with his belt, turning it red. He makes sure to hit at separate locations each time, but not once eases up. Each whip is harsh and fast, punishing me like I've felt I've always should be. It makes all of my ass sting and throb where I moan louder each time.

"I've been a bad girl and deserved to be spanked," I say after at least fifteen swats, only now noticing the tears on my face. I'm not sure when I started to cry, but it looks as if I've been crying for a while. My entire face is wet and I feel so incredibly vulnerable.

"I've been a bad girl," I cry emotionally, but it isn't because of the pain or anything like that. It is because it feels good. Because I am enjoying myself. I don't know how or why, but I am enjoying myself in a way I didn't think I could.

Punish suddenly grabs a handful of my hair. He grabs and forces my head back while still forcing me to stay bent over. His grip makes my head move back painfully where he puts his lips right next to my ear.

"You do deserve to be whipped like a bad girl. And you deserve... this," Punish growls and while still yanking my hair, he whips me one more time. Only this blow doesn't hit my swollen, red ass. This time he swings the belt so it goes under me and between my legs.

I feel the belt hit and the sting moves over my all of my slit making everything explode. The fierce blow makes my vision go completely white and my legs give out fully. They just collapse, having no strength at all. I feel the bottom half of my body start to slide off the desk but Punish's grip on me makes it easy for him to shove me forward to keep me on the table.

Wild, intense screams come out of me as I orgasm. I orgasm like I never have before, where it comes from a forbidden place, where the sting on my pussy feels like bliss. The pain and pleasure from it makes me feel like a dirty whore which I've always wanted to feel like. It makes me feel like I'm actually living.

Pleasure like never before floods inside me with my orgasm, making me scream my moans. During sex I've always made sure to be quiet, to not make a fool out of myself, but now it's impossible. My joy and excitement barrel out as I orgasm a real orgasm with the throbbing of my ass and pussy fueling it all.

Humiliation from orgasming in front of the old bastard only adds to what I feel. Just like the knowledge that I've leaked down my legs with my sex wetness. All of my sex and sexuality comes out, making me smile as I orgasm in such an embarrassing and horrid way. I mean, what would people think if they saw me like this?

When the orgasm passes, Punish steps back. He doesn't whip me again, nor does he say anything. Instead he lets me whimper and twitch as every tiny sensation feels overwhelming. Where the cool breeze of the AC feels like a hurricane.

"I see we had a few things bottled up," Punish remarks a couple of minutes later, when my soul has returned to my body. My body calms down but it retains that intense arousal while becoming grounded. Where I learn I won't be able to sit normal for a long time.

"F-Fuck me. Please," I hear myself whimper. It comes out as weak and pathetic, like how I feel. But it also comes out as a beg, showing more than ever, I need it.

"Fuck me, please. I need it. Please... fuck my black snatch," I beg, sounding desperate. For the first time in my life, I feel that I need it. My pussy is on fire, and I need cock. Yes, I know how disgusting and dirty it makes me. But I need it. I need someone in me. I need to be fucked.

"No," Punish states in his stern manner.

"W-W-What?" I gasp in shock. After all that happened, I thought for sure that was the next step. That he would have sex with me after the performance I just put on. He would know he broke something in me, and now I need the connection. I need sex.

A shrill, high-pitched moan comes out of me as Punish grabs me by the hair again and yanks. I'm not sure how he does it but he pulls me up so I am standing. Standing with him behind me, holding me up as his right arm wraps around to hold me up.

"Do you really think your punishment is over?" Punish asks and holds his left hand in front of me. From his hand, I see he is holding purple nylon rope, and a lot of it. It is looped from his hand in long loops, enough to wrap half of me with it. I have no clue where he pulled it from either.

"Your punishment for tonight is far from over," Punish tells me sternly as he moves to my side, running the end of the nylon rope... between my legs.

"Oh gosh," I gasp as he lifts a length of rope upward while between my legs. He presses it hard and firm, where the rope presses against my sex. Not just against it, but moves between my lips. I feel it pressing against my most sensitive area, making me yelp. Then he starts to wrap rope around my waist while keeping the length between my pussy lips.

"Far... from over," Punish repeats.