Sorry to keep you waiting. Here is the fourth part of the story. Maybe you think it is too slow. I don't know. Anyway, here it is.
On the stair to his flat he stopped me. On the second landing he turned me around and stopped me. He gently pushed me against the wall and standing on the step just below me he put his hand under my skirt and found his way to my groin. I gasped as he put his hand on my sex. He had touched me before but never like this, never on a stair and never had I been so open and available for his touch as this.
He put his hand on my sex and there was nothing to stop him. I looked around to see if someone would see us as he slipped his fingers inside me. I struggled against a sense of being violated. It was strange to be touched by him like that in this place, but his fingers caressed me and penetrated me and it was sweet.
I missed his intrusion as he withdrew and we climbed the stairs to his flat. I was trembling with arousal and shame as he opened the door. My dress fell on the floor inside the door and since I wasn't wearing a bra there were no more clothes to remove. I kicked off my shoes and was completely naked as he lead me to the bedroom.
He forbid me to touch him and he didn't remove his clothes as his fingers once again invaded me. There, lying naked on the bed, I surrendered to him for the second time this evening and this time I surrendered completely.
There on that bed I realised that far from wanting me to take initiative and take command he wanted more to be in charge. And far from being scared by that, I felt relieved and blessed by it.
I was changed. I knew that. Something within me had changed. In a way I still the same. I went on with my duties at work and nothing was different regarding that. I still taught my students, I still made my research and I still wrote my papers. Inside I was filled with a new kind of life, a life I had never known before.
I found it strange that my greatest sense of being loved and desired had come when I had surrendered to his will completely and humbled myself to the extent of shaming myself in public. No one had noticed, I think, but for me it was as good as public.
This sense of surrender clashed with my knowledge of myself and I couldn't get my head around it. I managed, somehow, to rationalise it as being a surrender in sexual matters, that my humiliation had been to make me realise I had to expose myself to sexual desires, as anyone had to, in order to be fully alive.
He, my demon, challenged this explanation constantly. He had made me surrender once and he wanted more.
One morning, when he knew I was on my way to a lecture he phoned me.
'Hello,' he said calmly.
'Hello, my love, I replied sensing my heart beating faster with joy.
'You are on your way to lectures?'
'Yes, I have a busy morning,' I replied, 'and then some in the afternoon.'
'I want you to wear a skirt,' he said.
I was a bit taken aback as he said this so casually.
'I am already wearing a skirt.'
'Good,' he said, and I heard him smile.
'Did you call me to tell me to wear a skirt?'
'I want you to take your knickers off.'
'There is no time,' I said, sensing that he wanted to play me from a distance.
'Taking your knickers off is done in no time,' he said, 'and I want you to go without them today, until we meet at the Carfax Café.'
'You heard me.'
I sensed some of that hardness in his voice.
'You must be joking,' I tried.
'Just do it,' he said, 'I will check when we meet. Bye.'
He hung up and I stood trembling in my hallway.
This was a time for decisions. I would not lie to him. I knew that. Either I disregarded his orders and told him I didn't fancy his games or I took my knickers off and went through with it, following his orders.
Why would I obey him? It didn't seem to be a matter of prestige for him. He could handle my refusal. I knew he could. I was a free woman and no one ordered me around. I didn't have to follow his orders.
But he had sounded so determined. He wanted me to obey him and maybe it was a game. Maybe he wanted me to be prepared for him, be ready for him. Maybe he thought that going commando at the department would make me aroused and ready for him, showing my surrender to him, even if it was just sexual, part of our foreplay.
Or maybe he wanted me simply to obey him. Maybe it was just an order, him testing me, trying to figure out how strong I was, how obedient I was. Maybe I would even lose his respect if I did follow his orders.
I saw his face before me, the headmaster's face, the stern, demanding face. He was in earnest, it was not in jest. He had ordered me and I had no reason to obey him. I was a free woman.
I took a deep breath, slipped my knickers from me and stepped out. I was trembling as I walked to university. My skirt was knee long but I knew I was naked underneath it.
I was aware of my nakedness, my unclad body the whole day and I wondered why I had obeyed him. Why had I done this? Did I want to surrender to him? In a way I imagined I did. I imagined, perhaps, this was a game, something he did to arouse me, to make me play along. But I felt the impact of it more profoundly. I knew I was a university lecturer teaching with no knickers under her skirt and I knew I had done it because I had been ordered to.
Being aware of how I sat and how my skirt rose and fell as I moved and always crossing my legs as I sat made me weary and as I walked to the meeting place I was full of a strange sensation. I wasn't angry. I should have been but I wasn't. I was aroused but not violently so. It was more like a distant murmuring deep within me.
I recognised the feeling as I entered the café. It was a mix of apprehension and humility. I felt deeply humbled by the day's exercise and I wasn't used to that.
As we sat down he looked at me.
'Did you take your knickers off?' he asked.
'Will you be quiet,' I hissed, 'anyone can hear you.'
'Well, did you?' he said, his voice steady, as clear as before.
'The whole day?'
'Let me check.'
'Not here,' I said alarmed.
He moved closer to me and turned his body so that he covered me from the view of the tabled behind us. Then he slipped his hand under my skirt and let it glide over my thigh.
I gasped as I felt his fingers move upwards, ever closer to me. Eventually he reached my hip and sensed that I was, indeed, not wearing any knickers. His hand moved along my lower belly, quickly and down over my sex and for a short moment his fingers slipped into me. I held my breath as they entered me and then withdrew.
He smiled. And the strangest thing happened. Instead of being angry with him for ordering me around, humiliating me by examining me in public, touching me, violating me and arousing me, I felt proud, proud for having done what he told me to.
I looked at this man wondering about the power he had over me, the power I had given him.
Was I just lonely? Was it just that I was so desperate for his sweet touch, his ability to arouse and satisfy that I bowed willingly to his whims, out of fear of being abandoned again? I didn't know. I was vulnerable, ever so vulnerable and he made it clear to me. I longed for his touch and I feared losing it. I didn't know. One thing I did know was that I had no choice. I couldn't protect myself from the importance of him or the desire to be loved and touched.
He saw me and he touched me, I desired him and he made me feel desirable. I wasn't sure of his love but I knew he cared for me. I could not just pretend he didn't made me feel this way and I couldn't protect myself. I had to go forward.