Fûck Me Until I'm Yours.
1077 Words
FÛCKED BY THE PROFESSOR (3)
I couldn’t concentrate all week.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his hands on me. And every single time I sat down, I felt the throbbing in my pússy. I’d come all over his desk like some filthy schoolgirl, and now?
Nothing.
There were no texts from him, no secret looks, no extra attention. It was like it never happened. Like he hadn’t bent me over his desk and fûcked me while calling me his good little slût.
So I decided to push him. Just a little. Maybe a lot.
I arrived early for his next class, and sat in front, just before his lectern. I wore a skimpy outfit. It was a soft mid-thigh skirt that swished when I walked. I didn't have any panties or bra on, just a tight white tank top.
It was cold outside, so I wore a jacket, conveniently hiding the way my nîpples strained against the fabric, the only thing holding them in place. They bounced with every step I took. They were on display, and I knew it. And I wanted him to see it. I needed him to notice.
When he walked in, I watched him like I always did. His button-up shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, and his sleeves were rolled to the elbows, exposing those sinful forearms that made me weak.
God, I badly wanted to crawl under his desk and beg for his cóck.
He started lecturing, and I noticed the way his eyes flicked to my thighs as I crossed and uncrossed them. The way I shifted just enough to let my skirt slide, baring my slick, swollen pûssy for him and only him. He didn’t pace the lecture hall like usual. He stayed right there. Right in front of me.
I slid one arm out of my jacket and let my hand drift up to my breast, gently rubbing my stiff nîpples. They were already sensitive, but now, the idea of doing this in front of the whole class, while he watched, made it almost impossible to keep still.
My eyes stayed locked on his. I didn’t blink, and I badly wanted him to watch how I was stroking my nîpple in his class.
Every time our eyes met, his eyes darkened.
He knew exactly what I was doing. And I knew he was calculating the price I’d pay.
I switched hands, dragging my fingertips over my breast as if I were alone in my room. I was aching and desperate for him. Every fantasy I’d had of being on my knees, of choking on his cóck, of being told to bend over, just for him, were all on repeat in my head.
By the end of class, my notebook was still blank and my pússy was slick with arousal. I was certain the wet spot on my skirt was visible.
Then I heard the sound of his boots as he drew closer to me.
“Stay after class,” he said, “We need to discuss your homework.”
Homework, my ass.
I didn’t move until everyone else was gone. Then I slowly stood, walking toward him with a sway in my hips I knew he’d notice.
“You wanted to see me, Professor Roman?” I asked sweetly, bouncing just slightly on my toes.
He didn’t smile as his eyes ran over my face.
“Ms. Isabelle,” he said with a voice like a warning. “It seems our last lesson didn’t stick. Looks like you need another one.”
Before I could answer, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck and pulled me against him. I gasped as my body melted into his, the hard ridge of his cóck pressing into my stomach.
His other hand yanked my jacket down, trapping my arms at my elbows.
“You thought that was cute?” he growled. “Putting on a show for me like that? No panties? No bra? In my classroom?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He shoved the straps of my tank top down and dragged the fabric with it. My nîpples hardened instantly in the cold air.
I gasped.
“God, look at you. Look what I do to you,” he muttered, dragging his thumb over one n****e. “You like being on display, don’t you?”
“Yes, Professor Roman,” I whispered, chest heaving.
In the next second, his tongue replaced his fingers, licking a tight circle before his teeth grazed the sensitive tip of my nîpple.
I whimpered, but he didn’t stop.
“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, switching to the next n****e. He kept licking, sucking, and biting.
“Oh .. fûck” I moaned.
“And I haven’t even touched your pússy yet.”
I whimpered, grinding against him, feeling just how hard he was. He backed me into the desk, pressing me against the edge until I was trapped between the hard wood and his even harder body.
“I should give you detention for that little stunt,” he said into my ear, “But you don’t want detention. You want punishment.”
“Yes, Professor Roman,” I gasped. “I want to be punished. Please. I need it.”
He chuckled. “Oh, you’re going to get it, Ms. Isabelle. You’re going to remember exactly who you belong to.”
“"Yes, Professor Roman," I breathed, my voice shaking with need.
Without hesitation, he spun me around and shoved me down over the desk. My bound arms cushioned my fall, but the pressure pushed my breasts flat against the cool surface, my nîpples instantly hardening.
He kicked my legs apart with force, widening my stance.
"You want to tease me during lecture?" he growled behind me. "Let’s see how wet I can make you just from spanking that needy little ass."
I didn’t even get a chance to respond. He yanked my skirt up to my waist, baring my ass completely.
I shivered, but not from the cold.
"Please, Sir," I mumbled, the desperation in my voice shamefully obvious.
"That’s not good enough," he said, "Tell me exactly what you want, Ms. Isabelle."
His breath grazed my back as he leaned in. I was shaking under him, my thighs already trembling.
"Spank me," I whispered. "Spank me until my ass is red. Please, Professor Roman. I need it. I need to be punished.”
- Writer
