[SilentFeather]

In response to a command from his Dominant, his Professor of a lover, his "irreplacable" Renzo, or Professor Renzo as he always adresed him as, Harry the teacher had nodded, excitedly he did so, expressing a smirk, one that seemed Cheshire Cat worthy which indeed had took a momentary gestation of time curling up, the corners of his lips did so as he he noticed Professor Renzo unfastening and removing of his own neck tie. It was of normal attire of his Professor, and was one of which once embraced the contours of it's sides, frontal and back, but soon although he wished to be vocal to the room and his Dominant through their latest "sexual-escapade" he knew that this was a means as to remaining silent, and also knowing and being wise to, even though he was an "absolute" and utter "chatterbox". was the true puzzle, a puzzle of which needed to be soothed and nurtured before ..

It was too late to do such.

He grunted as his jaws were contained behind the thick, coarse, yet was thankful, ever so gracious for the smoothness it gifted his lips with as friction from the older gentleman's movements as the tie was yanked upon. He remained where he was laying upon, only proceeding when permitted to, which was after he was "muzzled", ever so much like a dog, he felt like, reminding himself that he had to be lower in the Heirarchy to gain his approval, his adoration, and above all, his "love" even, and to be honest, if it meant that he needed to grovel, be called derogatory names, just to feel an ounce of his affection, then so be it, he needed it, very much, very, very much.

As he was yanked from his backside and the wooden desk he grunted, muffled by cloth but it was rather meek, kitten like, and rather quiver-riddled if heard by others. Tensing up as he was bent over, he relaxed his posture, using the desk for leverage as he remained rear up, presenting his vulnerable ass-cheeks to the predator on the prowl's ravenous eyes. Once in line of sigh they were targeted, and within minutes he was a sobbing mess, whimpering after the third strike, first was his rear, second was the same, and the third, well the third strike, which was to his highly sensitive, highly nerve-ending of a cunt, had sent him off-kilter, un-coordinated, clumsy, knobby-knee, antsy in his legs, reeling, heavily panted, pulse racing, and above all, rather heavily, deeply, and needful of oxygen to sustain of the precious that was depleted.