Yes, May 25th, is Geek Pride Day. i’m not making it up…a reader wrote me an email on Tuesday, informing me of this important cultural event…and as was pointed out to me…geeks can have kinks too….For more on GPD, go here…~n~
She bit her lip as she bent over the keyboard. Working on this project was such a huge pain in the butt. She hated computer science, had only taken this course because she figured that she would be able to sneak read her fav websites, like Peeps, Vague, Rocker World, and read some of those pervy blogs she’d lately taken an interest in.
Instead she “learned” about linux (wasn’t he the kid with the blanket fetish?), and codes (wasn’t that for Bond flix?) and other useless shit.
She was lost. And because she’d been busted, in class, for reading one of those blogs during class, she’d been told to come in on Saturday, for fucks sake. She had to reschedule her mani-pedi, and it was almost summer! She couldn’t go around with disgusting feet…sandal season was here.
She sighed, exasperated. He was such a geek, too, Mr. S. Black horn rimmed glasses, though thankfully, no pocket protector. She thought he kind of could be cute. She was 22, and really, he didn’t look as old as her dad. Maybe he was 40?
The thing was, when he looked at you, you kind of wanted to obey, she thought. She wasn’t sure what that was, some sort of secret Geek thing? She’d met other nerdy types, the college campus was rife with them, really. And she was just here to while away some time.
And because Daddy was mad that she’d dropped out for the fourth time, and insisted she go back until she got her degree. Dammit.
And okay, because she had refused to marry the son of Daddy’s best client. Who cared if he was rich? He had bad breath, and the times he kissed her, he had fish lips. She shuddered at the memory of his slack lipped, wet kisses. There was something about him that just was so….ugh.
She looked up at Mr. S. His mouth was set in a firm line as he typed away at his console. She looked at his hands, long, slender fingers moving agilely across the keyboard, the soft, rhythmic tap-tap of the keys.
She imagined them working …no. She was not even going to go there. She turned back to the gibberish displayed on her monitor.
Somehow, she got absorbed into the task.
His hand landing on her shoulder startled her out of her reverie. She had really been concentrating.
“Good. Good, Vanessa. I see you’re finally making headway. I also see,” and reaching around her, he tapped an icon at the bottom of the screen. Vanillamom popped up. She flushed guiltily. “that you’ve been taking some recreational breaks.”
She tried to block the monitor, but he pushed her hand down. Read what was there, a sexy story of submission. With a lot of sex. Which her teacher was now reading.
She felt the flush growing, running down her throat to her chest. The drawback to being a natural blonde was this very visible blush. He took her chin in his hand, looking down at her, his body angled so that she was trapped in the chair.
Not that she would have moved, anyway, as his gaze mesmerized.
“Is that what you want, little girl? Is that why you didn’t get married last fall? Hmmm?”
She flushed deeper, her lips parting, but no words coming out.
“hmmm.” He gave a half-smile, a speculative look. Then, reaching some inner decision, he reached over and shut down her computer. Wiped it. She stared in shock at the blank screen.
“I sent it to my computer,” he said with a laugh.
He took her by her upper arm, pulling her from the chair.
“Come.” The word was an order. They looked at each other for seconds, until her eyes dropped and she whispered a quiet “yes, Sir.”
Could it be that what she was looking for all along was right here under her nose?
He released her in the hallway, and walked away, stepping into the teachers bathroom. She stood, uncertain.
Her phone chimed.
“Go outside to your car. Go to the Mall. Wait there.”
She smiled. Clever.
She sat in the mall parking lot for a few minutes, just long enough to get antsy. Her phone chimed.
“Follow me. Gray truck just passing you now.”
She looked, and indeed the gray truck was just passing. She put her car into gear and followed. She wasn’t sure where he was taking her, and the curiosity was driving her crazy!
And why was she doing this in the first place? He was a fucking geek! With great eyes. Great hands. Now she did imagine them on her body. And wondered. He wasn’t, didn’t seem anyway, shocked over her reading material. Almost….pleased.
They turned into a long drive, where an old Victorian house sat in grand repose, half-hidden behind a grove of maples. She’d never been on this side of town, hadn’t driven past the mall, really. The country club was on the other side of this tony community. She looked with interest at the old house. Garrets and turrets, slate roofs, and a wrap around porch. Behind it, at the terminus of the long curving driveway was a garage which must have been a barn at some point. She followed him to the garage, and at his gesture, parked beside him. As she got out, the doors closed with a quiet hum.
“Mr. S..” she began.
“hush. I’m going to give you the rules. You will decide here and now. Obedience, or go back to sneak-reading those dirty little stories. You have an opportunity to try some of those things that make your pussy wet, and your heart beat fast, or you may decide to not cross that line, and go back to your dorm, and continue leading your placid little life.”
“Should you decide to go, the control for the door is here.” He placed the small remote on the shelf beside him. “Or you can choose to step out of reading, and into reality. If that is your decision, the steps are over there.” He pointed to the spiral steps that led up from the front end of the garage. The steps were metal, openwork, and led up, through the ceiling.
He looked at her for a moment, then turned and went up the stairs. She watched until his feet disappeared, and listened. There was only silence. Was he standing there waiting for her? Her heart was racing, and she was getting pretty excited…..but who was he to even mention her wet pussy?
Yet, it was wet.
Damned if the geeky prof, in black horn rimmed glasses wasn’t turning her on. Was he one of them? A…Dom? She quivered, uncertain. She looked behind her at the wide doors. Behind her lay more of the same. Boring. Boring.
Ahead? Ahead lay the unknown. She was nervous. She was uncomfortable. She was standing at the bottom step without remembering crossing the room. She looked up, but it was dark. She could see nothing.
She took the first, trembling step. And another. And another. And gasped as her head cleared the ceiling. Oh. My. Gawd.
He knew she’d come up. He had left the door to the playroom open, it would be the first thing she would see when she came up. The room itself was sound proof. Despite living this far away from prying eyes, the occasional student or faculty friend could and would drop by. The nearly invisible infrared eye he’d installed at various points around the property would light a bulb in the playroom which would alert him that company had come to call.
Around the room, on the walls, hung various implements he’d gathered or made over the years; whips and chains, a variety of cables for carrying power, hoods, masks, blindfolds, rope.
In the center of the room, the St. Andrews cross, and to the sides, a bed, four-poster of course, a spanking bench, and an electro-stim chair.
Mentally, he rubbed his hands together, but his face was impassive as she stepped into view. His arms were crossed, folded against his chest, his legs crossed at the ankles as he leaned against the saw horse, which was bolted to the floor.
He did enjoy the look of mingled desire and fear that played across her face. She was intrigued. And he could smell her wet cunt from here, fer crissakes. Little slut wanted to play. And he was happy to oblige.
He motioned for her to come in, and stepped to take her wrist in his hand.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and yet gleaming with an inner light that he’d never seen in class before. ‘Teachers got a whole new learnin’ for you, slut,’ he thought to himself. ‘And I think you’re going to like it.’
He pulled off her blouse, roughly. She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head, and she subsided. He could see the pulse beating fast in the sweet hollow of her throat, excited by the manhandling.
In moments she was naked. He took a fistful of hair and pushed her forward to the cross, and bound her to it.
“Your safeword is Linux.” He didn’t need to see her face to sense the eyeroll, and he smacked her ass. “Respect for the operating system, please, slut.”
He was such a geek!
one last word on being a geek…kink-minded or otherwise…and since he said it so well (see, i’ve been studying, SS!) i’ll simply quote him here:
Charlie Ross, creator and star of the “One-Man Star Wars Triology,” has this to say about being a geek:
“Part of being a geek in my mind is actually loving something so much, being unabashedly in love with it, in a way that it opens yourself up to ridicule. And there are people that are extremely obvious human beings, and those are the people that bully. They can’t allow themselves to be vulnerable. They can’t allow themselves to love something and have anybody possibly put them down for it. And it comes from a place of fear, obviously, bullying, but being a geek is, in a sense, being…either envied or feared or just loathed because you’ve found something you relate to.” (i couldn’t have said that better…so i’ll leave you with…Go, you passionate Geeks..we love ya! ~n~)