Hylas stared at his Teacher, a woman darker than the night, whose body shone as something blacker than the blackness of the air in his room. But he could see her her eyes and her teeth, that told him she was looking back at him. She was smiling.

She said, “Did you like your first lesson?” 

“Yes, Teacher.”

“Oh, you can call me Ojastara from now on. A little liberty for you. And you’ll enjoy your next lesson even better. Lie back.”

“Teach – Ojastara?”

She pushed him onto his back. She was, it seemed, immensely strong, though she was being gentle with him. Then she crawled forward, and he felt her knees between his. It was, in a way, like being stalked like a big cat, and then he lost all thoughts when he felt her lips on his inner thigh, just inches from his cock, which jutted up, at a right angle to his body.

She kissed his belly then, just a little. Maddeningly close to his cock, but not quite touching. He grunted. Ojastara crawled further so that her face hung in the air, just inches from his. “Do you know you want?”

He nodded, vigorous, heartfelt. “Yesss. Oh yes. Please.” 

“Well, you have to take it, now. Don’t be so afraid of me. Take my hair in your hand, and push my head down, to where you want it. Who are these lessons for?”

“You’re teaching me to please Phyrne. So they’re more for her than for me.”

“Clever boy. And you need to use a little force, without forcing her to do something she doesn’t want. It’s not about being a bully; it’s about showing her you need her. She wants to know that. But she’d like to know you want her. Want her hard, with passion. She’d like to feel you needing her. Take the cane.” 

“Ojastara?” 

“If you keep questioning me, boy, I will cane you. And we’ll abandon this lesson for something you’ll find less pleasant. But I want you take the back of my head, and push me onto you. And if I don’t please you, in any way, you’re to strike me with that cane.”

“You mean, I should do that with Phyrne?”

“No. What we do isn’t quite what you two will do. But you should have the experience of being in charge. Take the cane.”

This time he didn’t protest or question. He took the thin bamboo length in his hand. He knew that it was capable of delivering a fast and sharp correction. And once it was in his hand, it was like a badge of office. 

He struck her twice, reaching down her body so it landed on the balled muscles of her buttocks. He was going to ask her if he’d hurt her, when she sighed. “Nearly. Harder, boy.” 

He struck her another six times, steadily getting more daring and increasing the force. He only stopped when he couldn’t wait another second, and pressed her head down, onto his cock. She opened her mouth and took him in, her mouth the softest, warmest, lushly wet place it had ever been.

He groaned with the unutterable pleasure of it, and pushed her head down harder, and thrust up at her.  

She lifted her head and said, “You’re learning.” 

But he pushed her head back down, filling her so she couldn’t speak. And he thrashed her, hard, with the cane, while she made a warm catlike sound in her throat, and devoted herself to his pleasure.

And, too soon, though it had perhaps been a long time in objective time, he grunted again, and then gasped and cried out his joy as he reached his climax, and flooded her throat. It was the first time he had come in the body of a woman. She stayed with him, licking and sometimes kissing while he softened slowly in her mouth.

He had the odd urge to ask if he’d pleasured her. Logic told him that she’d pleasured him. But … this seemed not to be an arena where logic mattered.