| © 2004 by MLyons
Author's Note: The following story and the characters within it are purely a product of my imagination, and they are meant to be enjoyed only as a fantasy. Any similarity to real people or events is unintentional.
Reproduction of this story in any form without express written permission from the author is prohibited.
It was late; the sun had just fallen below the horizon. Besides the waning light of dusk that managed to creep its way through the closed blinds of Professor Stephen Johnson's den, the only other source of illumination in the room was the warm glow that washed over his student's skimpily clad body from the lamp next to the leather couch. Perspiration gave a smooth luminosity to Sarah's breasts. Various sex toys littered the carpet around the couch--vibrators and clit stimulators that he had used to great effect in teasing her and denying her release all evening.
One of her freshly shaved legs was tense over his shoulder. His hand gripped the inner thigh of her other leg holding it splayed to the side, hanging off the edge of the couch. His hard cock slid into the wet, shaved folds of her pussy. When he could get them to do it, he liked his girls bare and smooth.
"Ooh, yes," he said in a hoarse voice as a driblet of sweat dropped off his chest and splashed onto the girl's miniskirt, stretched up around her waist. He teased himself, easing his dick out to the head, and then pressing it back into her shimmering twat.
Sarah moaned through her clenched teeth. Her lazy brunette curls tickled the leather under her head, and her pliable tits peeked above her stretched blouse. They jiggled tightly with each of his long thrusts.
"Please, Stephen. I just. . . . God I need to cum," her piercing eyes bored into him, pleading for release once again.
"Just take these things off, and fuck me. Come on, please." Her breath whisked through her teeth, and her body quivered below him with frustrated need. He felt his dick once again slip past her pussy lips into her silky hole. He got a thrill out of knowing that she couldn't cum unless she was able to touch her clit.
Her small body tensed below him as her arms struggled against the handcuffs that held her wrists sandwiched between her back and the leather seat. Her breath jumped violently in and out of her mouth.
"Ask me nicely, Sarah." He stopped in mid-thrust, his throbbing cock stuffed halfway into her--motionless.
He knew she would do what he wanted, and it was always a treat to hear her pleas filtered through her insane lust.
"Please," she started to beg. "Fuck!" Sarah shuddered underneath him, trying to maneuver her sweaty body around his immobile member. Her filthy frustration was music to his ears.
"Ah, ah, ah," he chided, pulling his erection ever so slightly out of her. Finally, she relented.
"Please let me come, Professor Johnson." He knew she hated her submissive instincts, and that's what he loved about making her beg.
"Be specific, Sarah." He inched his cock forward until it was finally balls-deep in her wet twat.
Her bound arms helplessly pulled underneath her, and her voice shuddered. "Oh, God! Fuck you!" She laughed through her frustration.
He couldn't help but smile as well. He loved watching her. "Say it, Sarah." He didn't want to let her off the hook.
"Please let me finger my clit so I can cum, Professor." Her thin voice cut in and out on her, and she grunted with single-minded effort below him. He felt her slithering cunt lips rub around his pubic hair, her body laboring to gain satisfaction despite its limited mobility.
He knew that she probably thought she loved him. Sarah had been the best fuck of his life. He wanted to take her submissive body in every conceivable way. He knew he was taking advantage of her feelings for him, but he couldn't help it.
Her skin was so soft, and her smile was so sweet--her reactions to his dominance so addictive. Sarah had been different from the others. He didn't even know why he bothered to pop the videotapes in to the camcorders lining the walls of his den today--habit he guessed. He used to get off on the tapes, but Sarah had made them all seem so boring now.
He knew he would have to end it soon. He'd stayed with her longer than he'd stayed with any of his other students, and he even found himself nursing genuine feelings of affection for her. As he felt his cock being squeezed and massaged by Sarah's pleading pussy muscles, he had no regrets about the extra time he'd spent with her. He was aching to take her completely before he called it quits. God she felt good. His power over this girl, in many ways an unwilling slave to her own sexual urges, was delicious. He playfully brushed the tip of her protruding clit with his finger, causing Sarah's legs to shudder violently under his hands. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to hold off that break up just a little while longer.
"Please, Professor Johnson? Please?"
- - - -
CINDY: THE PROFESSOR'S BANE
'Naughty, Naughty Professor Johnson.'
It was written in flowery handwriting on a pink envelope, which somehow seemed to be consistent with the bubbly girl who had just given it to him.
"Go ahead and open it up, silly!" The petite blonde sat across from his desk, giggling--her bare calves playfully swinging in front of her. Her flirty pony tail played along the back of her neck.
There was something strange about Cindy. It was unusual for any of his students not to be intimidated by him--his reputation was not what it used to be. He was notorious for being the professor you don't want to get. He couldn't help it; the University had really gone downhill.
Years ago, so far back he could hardly remember anymore, he harbored a genuine liking for his female students. They were so pretty and doe-eyed, and he even enjoyed teaching. When he started becoming intimate with them, however, his affection slowly degraded into carnal sexual desire, where he started down a spiral of deviance that culminated in his unfortunate relationship with Sarah Jennings. After he said "goodbye" to her ten years ago, he managed to break the chain, but the price was a growing vindictiveness in the classroom that had become almost legendary. He still got a thrill out of the power he held over his students, but now, instead of charm and action, he turned to bitterness and imagination.
He would often subtly scold and demean the cute girls who braved an office visit while his mind flooded with deviant sexual fantasies in which the pretty girls took a leading part--submitting to his imaginary "discipline" for being such whiny brats.
With her ribbed t-shirt stretched around her slender torso, her sweet smile, and her sickening naivety, Cindy would fill that part in his mind nicely. He imagined her as a closet sex fiend with the impatience of a child, unable to keep her hands off herself. He had visions of cuffing her wrists overhead on a hook and whipping her bare bottom with cat-o-nine-tails for being such a horny little girl-slut. It was times like this that he really missed Sarah Jennings.
He shook the images off.
"Miss Kelly," he groused, regarding the envelope with only a cursory glance, "I really don't have time for games today. Is there anything academic I can help you with?"
Something about her twinkling smile and the troubling words on the envelope made him uneasy. Lord knows, he had some skeletons in his closet, but the idea of someone like Cindy digging them out was laughable. This must have been some kind of freshman joke, or maybe even a proposition.
"Nope! Nothing like that," she answered his question cheerily. "I really think you ought'a open up that envelope, though."
Johnson paused at her lack of deference to him, and looked at her suspiciously. He opened the envelope, and silently paged through the documents within--shocked. It was a collection of bank records that he immediately recognized as his own--an account that was completely independent of his University earnings. It was the one he'd used to store the money he'd managed to skim from his additional employer in the private sector. His mind reeled, but he tried to hide his swelling concern.
"What is this, Miss Kelly?"
"Oh, come on, Professor. You know what it is," she said coyly.
Johnson couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Where did? Where did you get this?"
"That's not really important, Professor. What's important is that if I give these papers to your boss, Mister Tyrney at Young Industries, he might start an investigation, and you know what? I'll bet you'll get in trouble." She giggled at him. Was this waif of a teenager actually blackmailing him? Who the fuck was this girl? Johnson's uneasiness turned to panic.
He did his best to feign a laugh. "Uhm. Miss Kelly, I think that--"
"Such a naughty old man," she ignored him. "Do you want to go to jail?"
Johnson's heart was racing. If Tyrney saw these records, he'd tell Karl Young about it and have Johnson's ass. This was a question of hundreds of thousands of dollars stolen from Young's pocket over the last 10 years, and he was a powerful and ruthless man, especially for those in whom he'd placed so much trust. In fact, Johnson would not only lose his retirement, he'd lose the rest of his life--wallowing in a jail cell, or worse, for who knows how long, and then having nothing to show for it when he came out on the other side.
"It's not a hard question, is it Professor?"
Her sweet demeanor was despicable to him. Johnson's stomach was in knots. He wanted to slap her, but behind her cute eyes was deadly serious intent.
He shook his head, more in disbelief than as an answer to her question. "Cindy, I don't know what you think--"
"That's what I thought. Now, are you going to be a good boy?"
"It'll be fun, I promise!"
"What do you mean? Please, just," he exhaled, trying to control his exasperation. "What do you want?"
"Lots of things, Professor!" Cindy bubbled as if she'd just been asked what she wanted for Christmas. "I'll tell you what. You're probably kinda surprised, huh? I'll meet you here at the end of the day, say 4 O'Clock? And you can tell me what you decide."
Johnson was stunned. "I don't understand. Decide what?"
"Whether or not you're going to go to jail, silly!" She reached her small hand across his desk and pushed on his shoulder.
He was shocked and in disbelief at her playful sincerity. Why was she doing this? He wanted to ask, but he could only manage, "Wh. . . Why--"
Her smile had dissolved just as easily as it had appeared. "Because, you deserve it."
She opened the door and flitted out of his office--her flowing skirt bouncing along the back of her knees.
Johnson was left alone. His eyes were blurry with panicked distress and furious anger. Maybe she just wanted money. His only copy of these documents had been locked in a cabinet at home. How did she get these? A realization struck him. He opened the drawer in his office desk that held the extra house keys he kept there. His suspicions were confirmed when he found them missing--who knows for how long.
- - - -
"So, Mister Johnson, are you going to play with me?"
Her sweet smile made him wince with disgust. Was she for fucking real? He tried to remain calm. "What do you want, Cindy?"
Ignoring any semblance of his authority, she walked around to his side of the desk. "Well, you're a little dog, aren't you, Professor?"
"What did you say!" The absolute nerve!
"A naughty, dirty little doggy." She spoke directly to his face--the strong grape scent of her bubble gum assaulting his nose. The way she provocatively said the words made his dick stir despite himself. He couldn't believe she was saying these things. What a fucking cock-tease, he thought.
"Here." She said as she tossed another envelope onto his desk. "Open it."
When he opened the envelope he was in for his second demoralizing shock of the day. Inside were a number of pictures of his younger self, fucking his students at home. They were grainy, but clear enough that he could recognize himself and the girls. He paused at a picture of him with his dick buried in some strawberry blonde whose name he couldn't remember. His cocky face stared into the camera as if he was giving himself a thumbs up. He was humiliated and his anger stirred anew. She must have found the videotapes in his house. He imagined this little brat rifling through his things and suddenly felt completely exposed.
"I like that one, Professor." Her little finger pointed to his naked body.
"See, I told you--a little doggy." She giggled and skipped back to the chair opposite his desk. "Tell me what you are, Professor."
Johnson looked at her. He would not submit to this cocky, insignificant bitch. "Fuck you, Cindy."
"Oh. So you've decided then!" Cindy made no hesitation in grabbing her cell phone from a pocket in her skirt. He wanted to rip it out of her hand and smash it against the wall. He wanted to lunge across the desk and smack her face, but she was so small. He knew he would be carted away for assault.
"Stop. Wait. I'm sorry. Cindy!"
She held the phone to her ear with her eyes on his, waiting for the response she wanted to hear. "Yes, may I speak with Mister Ronald Tyrney please?" she said. "I have some information for him. Thank you." Her eyes didn't leave Johnson's. She wasn't bluffing. She covered the phone mic and giggled, "You know what? I hear Ronald's kind of a perv, I wonder if he'd like some of those videotapes of yours too."
"I'm a. . . I'm a naughty doggy." This was unreal.
Cindy punched the keypad to end the call. "Good! That wasn't so hard was it?" She put her phone back in her pocket. "You know what naughty doggies do, don't you, Professor?"
Johnson sat silently, seething at her.
"They get down on their hands and knees."
"What is this game you're playing, Cindy? You're making a mistake." Johnson was desperate to talk his way out of this ridiculous situation.
"No, no mistake. Down on your knees, right here." She pointed to the floor just below her swinging legs. "Just like a doggy! "
Johnson rose out of his chair. He felt like he was out of his body, taking demeaning orders from a bratty 19-year-old she-devil. He wanted to teach her a lesson. He wanted to grab her pony tail by the fist, pull her roughly over his knee, yank her skirt down to her knees and spank her bare bottom like the disobedient child she was.
He certainly hadn't expected this. What was he going to do? "Cindy, please, this isn't really necessary."
"Sh Sh," she wagged her finger at him. "Doggies don't talk, Professor."
His breath shortened in his tight chest. He couldn't believe he was going to do this. He lowered himself onto his knees, and then on all fours in his own office. Even in his subservient position, he couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she was, in a very petite kind of way. She was certainly thinner and less busty than he usually went for, but those bare, slender calves underneath that skirt would have been almost irresistible under better circumstances--even at his age.
"That's better! See now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Her perky breasts shook slightly underneath her stretched t-shirt as she adjusted herself in her chair. This dainty doll of a girl who he could practically throw across the room had him just where he would have wanted her.
"Now stick your tongue out and pant for me," her tone was serious.
Was she insane? "Pant?"
"One more word out of you, you naughty old man, and I'm gonna go call your perv friend, Ronald. Now pant for me little doggy," Cindy chided. "Come on, be a good boy." She wagged her sparsely freckled calves in front of his face.
Johnson could feel his erection betraying him despite his anger and humiliation. In fact, his hard on only fueled his anger further. He simply didn't know what else to do. He opened his mouth, stuck his tongue out and started to pant like a dog. He could feel the cold air drying his tongue, and his forehead slowly saturated with sweat.
"Good, good. Pant for me." She giggled at him from her seat, rubbing one of her silky calves against his nose. He could smell her lotion. "You're so cute!"
Johnson pulled his tongue back in and started to say something.
"Don't you speak!" she raised her impatient voice for the first time. His cock throbbed without regard for the sickness in his stomach as he caught a glimpse of the white panties underneath her skirt. "I'll do the talking! Now, pant."
Johnson stuck his tongue out again.
Cindy grabbed one of the photos off his desk. "Did you fuck her, little doggy?" She held the photo in front of his face. It was a picture of some blonde bimbo he'd fucked countless years ago. He couldn't remember her name. She had big tits and was on her knees, busily licking his balls.
"Do you like her?" Cindy was teasing him as she indicated that he should nod.
He simply nodded. He had no choice.
"Do you like her? Yeah? Do you? Go get her!" Cindy tossed the photo toward the corner of his office. I floated over and landed underneath a metal framed, green vinyl chair. "Go ahead, doggy, fetch."
Johnson didn't move. No fucking way, he thought.
"Come on now." She stood up and then bent over beside him. He saw her ass sticking out under her skirt. Her thin fingers reached between his legs behind him. She grabbed his hard cock over his suit pants, and squeezed his balls and the bottom of his pole as if they were throttle controls.
"Yay! You do like her." Her reaction was exceptionally giddy, almost as if it was a relief. She wanted him to be hard. "Go ahead, now. Fetch!" She tightened her grip on his scrotum until he felt a little pain.
"No. No!" He shifted his legs in an instinctive reaction to get her fucking hand off his balls--feeling like a horny, degraded animal being groped by a teenage veterinary assistant.
"Yes, come on." Cindy had no sympathy for his predicament. She simply walked along side him like a trainer, continuing to squeeze just hard enough and repeating her command, "Fetch, doggy, fetch."
Johnson finally got the debasing message and began crawling over to the corner. Cindy insistent fingers squeezed and pulled his ball sack the whole way--serving as a sick motivation for him to perform his trick.
She giggled at him. "I thought you liked her. Pick it up with your teeth and bring it back."
Johnson couldn't believe she was capable of this, her hand still kneading his sensitive ball sack like a piece of dough.
"Good boy!" Cindy grabbed the photo from his mouth.
"Do you like me, too Professor?" She seemed very anxious to confirm his cock's reactions to her. She knelt in front of him and brushed her tiny nose against his a few times like she was cuddling her puppy. "Do you?"
His dick became even harder. He nodded and panted, not daring to disobey her again.
"I thought so." Cindy stood up and stepped over to the ratty green sofa in the corner of his office.
"Naughty dogs like the young girls don't they, Professor?" She lifted her smooth leg up so that her knee was on the seat of the couch beside the arm rest, her white sneaker dangling over the edge. Her other leg, bare from the top of her short white sock to the middle of her thigh, wrapped around to the other side of the arm rest. The edge of her flowing skirt dangled in thin folds around her skin. She bent over causing her skirt to ride up the back of her creamy thighs just enough to reveal a small hint of her white panties covering the crack of her ass. She whipped her flowing pony tail around so that it dangled next to her shoulder, and she looked back at him.
"Did you fuck them like this, Professor?" she said with a confounding air of sexually charged innocence.