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.
Chapter 3
"Professor," she started on day in his office. "I'm truly confused. You said that I have a slave heart. But I don't know what to do about it. I don't even know if it's a good thing."
Richard smiled at his beautiful assistant. "It's a very good thing, Cency. At least it is if you explore it with someone you trust. And once you find that person, you don't have to do anything about it. You simply surrender yourself to your slave heart."
"Oh," she said, nodding as if she understood, which she most certainly did not.
"You will find someone," he added. "And then you can learn more about yourself as you explore your feelings."
"Oh," she repeated.
"Cency, we are moving back into the practical demonstrations in class tomorrow. You will be my model again." He paused, waiting to see her response. He expected to see her tense and maybe even blush. But instead, she just nodded.
"Yes, Professor. What are we getting into next?"
"Modern day applications of the techniques of the Inquisition," he replied. "Some of their tools and innovations are utilized even today, although in a much tamer form. I want to demonstrate some of them using you as the subject."
"Yes, Professor," she nodded. "What should I wear?"
"Nothing," he said.
She blinked at his response. "Do you mean nothing in particular?"
"No," he laughed. "I mean nothing. You will be nude for the next class."
Innocence gasped at his words. The blush that he had expected earlier finally arrived and her face turned crimson. "Oh, are you sure you need that? I'm not sure I can do that. Oh, my!"
"It's the only way, Cency," he said. "And I know you can do it. You told me once that you have posed nude for some of the art classes. Besides, it will be another way to explore your slave heart."
"My slave heart," she whispered.
"I should warn you," Richard addressed the class the next day. "There will be nudity associated with this lesson. If you think that you will be offended, you may leave now. Class notes will be posted on the website later this afternoon as well as an audio recording of the lecture." Not a single student moved toward the door.
"Very well," he said. "Let us begin. But I must caution you to show respect and to not make our subject uncomfortable. Otherwise, I will invite the offending parties to leave the classroom."
He turned toward the door in the front of the classroom and opened it. He disappeared momentarily into the office where Innocence was waiting. He smiled appreciatively as he saw her naked for the first time. She was remarkable and the vision of her almost took his breath away.
"Good girl," he said to try to reassure her. "You are beautiful. Come, let's begin."
He took her by the elbow and led her forward. She had leather cuffs around each of her wrists and ankles and she had locked her wrists together behind her back as he had instructed her to.