Spank me, Sir!
1446 Words
Fûcked By The Professor (4)
"You filthy little girl," he said. "That’s what you’ve been thinking about all week, hasn’t it? Bending over for me? Getting your tight little áss used right here in my office?"
"Yes," I moaned. "Every night, I think about your cóck. I think about your hands on me. I touch myself and pretend you’re spanking me while you fúck me like a slút."
"Oh, you’ll get that, Ms. Isabelle. But not yet." His voice dropped. "First, you take your punishment like the greedy little tease you are."
Then the first slap landed.
Spank!
I gasped, my body jolting forward. The sting shot across my ass and sparked something deeper in me.
Another slap. Then another.
He was deliberate as he spanked me like he was studying my reactions. It felt like he was watching me flinch, and watching me arch into every hit like my body couldn’t decide if it wanted to escape or take more.
And it did. I wanted more. I was soaked, and my arousal slipped down my thighs.
"Count for me," he ordered.
"O-One..."
"Say it louder."
"One, Sir!" I cried, pushing my ass back into his hand.
The next slap made my eyes water.
"Two, Sir!"
The spanking continued, building heat with every strike. I lost count twice and had to start over. He made me apologize each time, made me repeat the number, made me beg.
By the time we reached ten, I was whimpering, my thighs quivering, my pússy so wet I could hear it every time I shifted.
"Look at you," he muttered. "You love this. You love being punished like the filthy little brat you are."
"Yes, Professor Roman," I gasped, the words tumbling out of me. "Please... I need more."
He leaned over, his chest pressing against my back. I could feel his cóck, hot and thick, dragging against my swollen pússy lips.
"You’ll get more, good girl," he said, his voice rough. "I'm going to ruin you. You understand that?"
"Yes, Sir." I said, grinding slightly against his cóck, hoping he wouldn't notice.
"You won't be able to sit in my class without remembering how I made you scream right here.” Professor Roman said.
“Yess…yes.”
“Every time you sit down, you'll feel this ass sting and remember how wet you got from it." he chucked.
"I already feel it," I sobbed. "Please, I need you inside me. I can't think straight. I can't breathe."
"Oh, you’ll take this cóck, Baby Girl. But not until I make sure you know who you belong to.”
His hand slid between my legs, and he slipped two fingers into my soaked cunt. I cried out immediately. The stretch was nothing compared to what I craved, but it was enough to make me lose my mind.
"This pússy," he said, thrusting his fingers inside me with purpose, "belongs to me. Say it."
"It’s yours, Professor Roman," I moaned. "Only yours."
"And this mouth?"
"Yours."
"This ass?"
"Yours, Sir. Every part of me. Just... please."
He curled his fingers, hitting a spot that made me shake uncontrollably.
"You’re going to take everything I give you, Ms. Isabelle. Every inch. Every order. Every punishment."
"Yes. Yes. Please, Sir. Please."
He pulled his fingers out. They were sick and glistening. I turned my head to see him licking them clean, eyes locked on mine.
"Good girl," he said, grinning at me.
Professor Roman raised his hand and landed a sharp smack right in the center of my right cheek. My body jolted forward, but he didn’t give me time to recover. His palm stayed there, gripping, pulling and scratching like he owned every inch of me.
I winced, yet his fingers dug into my flesh possessively, like I was his property.
Then came another slap, again. Harder.
I gasped, my back arching.
“Please, Sir… harder,” I panted, barely able to hold still.
He didn’t hesitate. He started a rhythm, alternating between cheeks, each strike sending a fresh wave of heat through me. The sting burned deliciously, blooming across my skin. My ass felt like it was on fire, and I loved every second of it.
He paused, just long enough to trail his fingers between my thighs, barely brushing my clît.
My entire body twitched.
“Oh God, yes. Please, Sir. I need your cóck,” I begged, shameless.
I was dripping. I knew he could see it. I was soaking the desk, my thighs had been sliding against each other for minutes. There was no hiding how badly I wanted him.
“You’re a filthy little thing, Ms. Isabelle,” he murmured behind me, his tone low and dangerous. “You’re soaking this desk like it belongs to you. Look at this mess.”
His words made me ache even more. My eyes fluttered shut. My body was screaming for him.
“We didn’t exactly go over your limits,” he said. “So tell me now. Bondage? Yay or nay?”
Only Professor Roman would casually carry rope in his briefcase. The thought made my thighs twitch.
“Bondage is okay,” I panted. “Just… no choking or ass play, and we’re good.”
“Noted,” he said with a wicked little smirk I could feel in my spine.
He used his knee to nudge my legs farther apart. Then he crouched behind me, taking his time tying each ankle to the legs of the desk. The rope dug in just enough to remind me I was trapped.
I pulled against it instinctively.
“You struggling already?” he asked, amused.
Then three sharp spanks landed hard on my ass.
“Struggling earns you spankings, good girl.” he growled.
My breath caught. That praise. “Good girl.”
God help me, I could’ve cûm just from that.
My ass arched higher, silently begging for more. The cool air against my tender skin made me shiver. My nîpples were aching, pressed flat against the cold surface of the desk. I was a mess, and he hadn’t even fûcked me yet.
He ran a hand down my spine, down to my thighs. Then he shifted behind me. I felt the head of his cóck press against my ass cheeks, sliding down to nudge my clît.
I sucked in a breath. His fingers began to circle my clît torturously. I let out a soft moan.
“Quiet!” He ordered as he continued with the slow,
hypnotic strokes on my clît, making my eyes to roll back.
I didn’t even think before whispering, “Please, sir… I want your cóck down my throat.”
He let out a low chuckle, “You want to worship it, Ms. Isabelle?”
“Yes, Professor Roman.”
“Then come get it.”
He moved in front of me, and my eyes locked on his cóck. It was thick, veiny, and very beautiful. It was perfect, and I wanted every inch of it.
I licked the tip of his cóck head, tasting him. Then I slowly took more in, sliding him deeper into my throat. The stretch made my eyes water, but I didn’t stop. I wanted the ache. I needed to give it to him.
A groan rumbled low in his chest, and he tangled his fingers in my hair.
“Damn…” he moaned.
When my nose brushed his abdomen, he groaned again, his hips twitching slightly. I stayed there, throat full, moaning around him. Then I pulled back slowly, then began bobbing, taking him deeper each time until my throat adjusted and his cóck slid in smoothly. His thighs trembled under my hands.
“Fúck, Ms. Isabelle,” he growled. “You take cóck like you were born for it.”
I moaned, swallowing around him.
But then he grabbed my hair and yanked me off.
“Stop.”
Spit clung to my lips, a strand connecting me to the head of his cóck.
“As much as I love that mouth,” he said, with a voice that was rough and strained, “today I want to ruin that tight little pússy.”
He moved behind me again and gave my ass another spank. This time, it was hard enough to make me squeak.
His cóck rubbed against my slít, the head nudging my clît.
I couldn’t stay still. I panted, pushing back, trying to take him in.
Then I felt it. His cóck pressed in, slow and punishing. Inch by inch, he filled me, stretching me until I couldn’t breathe.
“Oh fûck… Professor Roman.”
“You take cóck like a good girl, Ms. Isabelle.”
- Writer
