The Raven Chronicles Book 1

Any Names, characters, places, and incidents, are a product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

The Raven Chronicles
contains erotic fiction and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.  The stories include adult scenarios, sexual themes, explicit language, and explicit descriptions of sex intended for adult readers.  If such material offends you please do not continue.

All rights reserved.

Published by Nwahs Publications

Cover art by Nicole Dixon/Nwahs studios

Copyright 2014

Email:  
[email protected]

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@dixonwriting

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.  Any reproductions or other unauthorized use of this material or artwork herein is prohibited without expressed written consent of the author.

First Edition November 2014

Second Edition January 2015

Also by Nicole Dixon:

Confessions of a Sex Therapist Volume 1,

Confessions of a Sex Therapist Volume 2,

Confessions of a Sex Therapist Volume 3,

Cuckold's Decent

Chapter 1

Raven

“Get your head down and stay down!” Raven commanded.

Susan pushed her head deep into the pillow, kneeling on the bed, leaving her ass in the air.

Raven swung the riding crop in a high reaching arc downward and it stuck Susan’s white flesh with a
pop!

Susan screamed. She squeezed the sheets in her fists and took shallow breaths through her wet, pursed lips, mitigating the intense pain. This was her eighth lash; she had two more coming.

“It will be a while before you disobey me again, right, slut?”

“Yes, Mistress Raven.”

The riding crop whipped through the air in another arc and made contact with Susan’s ass.

Susan emitted a guttural groan of pain before babbling incoherently.

Raven allowed Susan to regain her composure. The pain would be more terrible that way. Pain had a way of blurring together as it passed the threshold of misery. Each blow must be a distinct experience if the pain was to hit its peak.

Raven rubbed the riding crop on Susan’s ass. Bright red welts crisscrossed the soft white skin of her bony ass.

“One more,” Raven said.

“Yes, Mistress Raven.”

Smack!

The ordeal was over. Susan fell forward onto the satin sheets, her ass searing with hot pain, her eyes and pussy wet. She took quick, shallow breaths and looked around the dark room. Objects stacked on tables, curtains drawn shut over the windows and doors, two small lamps giving the room a dim yellow glow. Mistress Raven, straight black hair and leather corset, putting her riding crop back in the closet. Her cold black eyes turned to find Susan looking at her.

“Next time it will be the cane,” Raven said.

Susan nodded.

Susan walked out of the apartment into the cold night. She walked several blocks to the bus stop and took the bus to her house and her loveless marriage in the suburbs.

Work at the university was not as glamorous as Dr. Susan McCandless had hoped. She had earned her doctorate in economics by the age of twenty-five. Married by the age of thirty, had kids by thirty-three. She sat in her small campus office with the frosted glass window, perfumed with rotting books and leather, watching the young students walk back and forth to their next classes. She’d had such high hopes for her career, for her life. At forty it all seemed so pointless. She loved her twins, two little girls that made her life worth living, but she still had needs as an adult.

A knock came at the door.

“Come in,” Susan said.

“Dr. McCandless, you called me?”

It was Becki. A beautiful young coed, a freshman, in her Intro to Economics class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. “Yes, come in, Becki. Have a seat.” Susan motioned to the tiny chair in her office, with a thick wooden frame and cracked green leather padding. Becki sat.

Becki had distinctive features, with full, pouty lips and large almond-shaped brown eyes that looked innocently at the professor. Her brunette hair fell in curls around her shoulders. Her tan legs, taut with youth, crossed deliciously, with one sandal casually dangling from her toe.

“Your grade in Econ is dropping, Becki. I wanted to speak with you and see if there was a problem.”

Becki appeared flustered. “I know, Dr. McCandless. I’ve been swamped with homework in my other classes, plus my job has me working extra hours. I don’t take any of my classes lightly. I had all As in high school.”

Susan knew this. She had looked up Becki’s transcript before requesting this meeting. She knew that Becki would do anything to maintain her perfect record at college, too. “I know you are a good student. That’s why I wanted to talk with you before final grades were released. You don’t want a D on your transcript.”

“Oh…a D—how could it be a D?”

“I’m afraid so. That grade will require you to retake the class for credit.”

“Can I raise it to an B by the end of the semester?”

“There’s not enough time. Maybe a C if you ace the final exam.”

“What can I do?” Becki asked, her eyes wet with pending tears.

“Well, there is something.” This was always the selling point. It could go well or awful, depending on the student. Susan tried to select the student carefully to ensure the desired outcome—that student who would do almost anything for a good grade. You could spot a student who feared failure. “Maybe we can discuss it over dinner. I could get to know you better. You are a young, beautiful woman. I can find out what is distracting you, what has you overly distressed, then I could help you study.”

At first, Becki didn’t suspect anything out of the ordinary, but she soon realized that this was a thinly veiled pass by a senior professor. “I…don’t know…”

Susan nodded her head. Her legs crossed, she sat stiffly upright in her chair. She knew it would take some time for the true nature of her offer to be acknowledged.

Silence passed between them as they stared at one another.

“May I leave?” Becki said, twisting in her chair.

“Of course, Becki.”

Becki stood. Her firm ass was in the professor’s face as she turned to step around the chair. She opened the old mahogany door and left, shutting the door behind her.

Susan looked out her window onto the campus. The students had thinned. It was past the hour and classes had started. A knock came at her door.

Susan turned. “Yes.”

Becki opened the door. “My grades mean a lot to me. Where would you like to meet for dinner?”

***

Professor Susan McCandless walked down the sidewalk to a little out-of-the-way restaurant. She wore her gray skirt and high heel shoes she kept in the office for these situations. The cold rain made the street and sidewalk wet, reflecting the street lights.
It’s too cold for early November
, Susan thought. She reached down into her brown Burberry overcoat and retrieved her phone. She dialed home.

“Hello,” her husband answered.

“Hey, Eric.” Susan’s voice was flat and indifferent.

“Where are you?”

“I have to work late again tonight.”

“Again?” Eric’s disappointment was audible. “Jesus, I swear you love that job more than anything. I can’t imagine caring that much about a job.”

“No, you’ve never held a job long enough.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before.”

“I called because I won’t be home until late. I have a couple of meetings with individual students— you know it’s getting close to the end of the semester and they want to improve their grades. This one can only do it tonight so I’m going to take advantage of her while I can.”

“Are you sleeping with her?”

The joke struck a cold chord with Susan, who nearly dropped the phone before laughing and playing along. “Yeah, that’s what I’m doing.”

“Well, be careful. I know the girls miss you and so do I.”

“Let me talk to them,” she said, peering into the restaurant window to make sure Becki wasn’t inside waiting. A little girl’s voice came on the phone. Amanda. This warmed Susan’s heart. They talked about their day. Her twin sister, Emily, took the phone after Amanda, both girls excited and sad to hear from their mom at this hour. This meant she would be home late, after they had gone to bed. They could handle her absence for a night. Susan hung up and went into the restaurant to wait.

Becki arrived, wearing a long blue pea-coat with the collar pulled up around her neck, her wavy brown hair damp from the rain. She came to the table where Susan sat.

“Hello, Dr. McCandless.”

“Please, call me Susan.”

Becki looked uncertain. “Susan.” She smiled. She slipped her coat around the back of her chair and sat down. She was dressed like a college student going for a job interview, conservative except for the low neckline that revealed her respectable cleavage.

They made small talk and each ordered dinner salads, which came from the kitchen quickly. The conversation was putting Becki at ease. She discussed her family. She was homesick being so far away from Iowa. When Susan sensed she was completely comfortable, she sprung the trap.

“It can be very lonely, your first year at college, away from home.”

“It is.”

“Is that part of the reason your grades are suffering?”

Becki’s face grew red as she chewed her salad. “I guess. It’s so embarrassing. I feel like such a baby. I can’t help it. I’ve been spending more time with my boyfriend because it keeps my mind off of home, and I can’t get any studying done there.”

“I’ve seen it all before. I know what you mean.”

Becki smiled at Susan, thankful to have a compassionate ear from such an experienced individual.

They discussed college, being homesick, and the dorm life. When they finished dinner, Susan paid. As they stood and pulled on their coats, Susan spoke. “That’s why I’ve invited you to dinner, Becki. I think you could use some more stability in your life. A strong role model to show you the ropes.”

“That would be wonderful,” Becki said.

“But we’d have to get to know each other better,” Susan said, looking at the young woman seductively. “A lot better.”

Becki swallowed hard. “Whatever you say, Dr. McCandless,” she said as if in a trance.

“Please, call me Susan.”

“Susan.”

“Walk with me back to my apartment and we can discuss your grade,” Susan said.

Susan led her through a black wrought iron fence and into a courtyard, then through another gate that exited to concrete steps. At the top of the steps was a large ivy-covered brick building. They came to the oak door, Susan entered her key and pushed the open, revealing a dark room.

Susan flipped on a light. The room looked like something out of an old haunted house. Red velvet patterned wallpaper, red couch, and a black cherry coffee table that looked to be about six hundred pounds. Dark hardwood floors with vividly colored Persian throw rugs. Two strange paintings of minimalist landscapes adorned the wall. Paisley curtains hung over two doorways. Susan removed her coat off and tossed it on the red couch. She went to Becki and unbuttoned her pea-coat, letting it fall to the floor. Becki looked up into her professor’s eyes, unsure about what came next. Susan leaned down and kissed her.

Their lips touched gently at first but hunger caused their passion to grow. Susan put her tongue into Becki’s waiting mouth, which accepted it willingly. Becki sucked Susan’s tongue, tickled it with her own and let it explore her mouth. Susan’s hands wandered down Becki’s slender back to her ass and squeezed it through her blue skirt.
Tight and firm,
Susan thought.

While Susan enjoyed her young catch, she had another more important concern—what would Raven think? Susan’s goal was to please Raven; if Raven was happy, everyone was happy.

Susan worked her way down, kissing on the young freshman’s neck and nibbling her ears. She guided Becki back and pushed her down on the couch. Susan dropped to her knees. She pulled Becki’s dress up to her waist, revealing black lace panties. Her lean, muscular thighs tapered perfectly to her cute dimpled knees before swelling gently into sultry calves—round, taut and firm, a lean ball of muscle just above delicate ankles and sexy feet. Susan moaned. “I knew there was more to you than meets the eye.”

Susan slipped Becki’s panties down, revealing the most innocent tiny triangle of pubic hair above the soft folds of her labia, her delicate flower. Susan leaned down between Becki’s legs and pressed her lips to Becki’s.

Becki threw her head back and moaned. Her hands went to Susan’s head and held it while Susan ate her. Susan’s tongue drew circles around the lips, then tender kisses, before drawing circles again, the entire time ignoring the clit, letting it grow nervous with anticipation. Susan pressed her tongue into Becki’s pussy. It tasted sweet, like candy. Susan inserted a finger. Becki bucked her hips forward, wanting, needing Susan to lick her clit.

Susan refrained. Timing was everything.

Susan’s hot breath teased her, but she did not touch it. Anticipation built. She spread Becki’s lips open and inserted her tongue again. Becki moaned loudly, her body tense with orgasm. Not before, not after, but right then the sensitive clit can be pleasured. If it came too soon then the clit would become too sensitive. If she went in too late, she might miss the party and have to work the poor girl back up into a frenzy. When timed perfectly, the clit was a button to the soul. Susan knew it was that time.

Becki arched her back to the best orgasm she’d ever had. The room spun. She ground Susan’s face into her pussy. Cum ran down the crack of her ass. She squeezed handfuls of Susan’s dirty-blond hair. At that moment, Becki cared about nothing else in the entire world. There was only her, Susan, and the roller coaster of orgasms she never wanted to end. One after the other came and subsided under Susan’s expert tongue until Susan stopped, face wet with Becki’s juices, and looked up at her. Becki lay panting and exhausted.

“Oh my god. I’ve never experienced anything like that,” Becki said. She crossed her arms over her eyes, resting a moment, her chest heaving as she breathed deeply, her tiny belly expanding and shrinking. She looked like an angel blocking her eyes from the sun.