This Year's Model

She reached out and cupped my balls. A gentle squeeze set me off. Ribbon after ribbon of cum shot out. Several months of sexual frustration poured out, giving me the real pornstar money shot. It seemed like minutes passed, and I was still shooting.

When I was finally spent, Leslie's tits were covered. Streaks of milky white cum adorned her tits like lash marks. Both of us got our breathing under control, but it wasn't easy. And the look on her face was ... rapturous. If she thought this was me fulfilling a fantasy of hers, then we were going to have one amazing school year.

I helped her to her feet. Her legs were unsteady, from the kneeling and the orgasm she'd had. She again perched on my desk and traced a finger over her left tit. Scooping up some of the cum, she brought it to her lips and tasted me. Again, pure rapture. "Oh my God, Sir. You taste even better than I'd imagined too. I need more!"

I stopped her hand. "Not today, slut. If you're good, you can have more tomorrow. Right now, I want you to put your shirt back on." The two-sizes-too-small pink T-shirt spread the cum all over her tits and belly. And it was already starting to stain from the inside out. By dinner tonight, anyone who looked would know exactly what she'd been up to.

"What do you normally sleep in, Leslie? Just answer; you don't have to tell me that you'll get whatever nightwear I want you to have. What's your normal pajamas?"

"Usually, just a oversized T-shirt."

"All right then. Slut, you are to wear that shirt for the rest of the day and night. I want you to feel my cum on your body until tomorrow. In the morning, take a shower, put on make up and your school uniform, and be in my office at 10:00 am sharp. Do you understand, whore?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You will tell no one what happened here. If anyone asks about your shirt, tell them it's the newest fashion, straight from Paris. In the morning, we will lay out some ground rules. It may be the only time I allow you to have a say in our activities, so think carefully about what you're not willing to do. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Very well. You've been a good little slut today, so you may kiss me."

"Thank you, Sir!" She moved to kiss my lips, but I turned and pointed to my cheek. She got the hint. "See you tomorrow, Professor. And thank you. I'll be the best whore ever. Your slut won't let you down."

The words "I know you won't" escaped from my mouth, and it was true; I knew she would do anything I wanted her to. She was, for lack of a better word, mine for the taking.

**********

The next morning, I needed to talk with Radmila. Oh, who was I kidding? I needed to thank Radmila. So I got onto campus early, catching her during her first cup of coffee.

"Why, Mr. Hawthorne! Good to see such eagerness among the younger faculty. Are you planning to come to the ice cream social we're having for the freshmen this afternoon?"

"Possibly, Headmistress Starovic. But first, could we step into your office a moment?"

She led the way, closed the door behind us, and turned to me with a knowing smile. "So, Wes, I hear you had a visitor yesterday..."

"I did. And I believe I have you to thank for that. So when the flowers show up here this morning, addressed to you but with no card... Well, everybody's desk looks better with fresh flowers."

She chuckled. "I take it you approved of my choice?"

"Dear God, Radmila. She was, and is, incredible. I've never had anyone that eager to please me. That was just ... amazing. But how on Earth did you know she'd be that gaga over me?"

"I get a daily report from the resident advisors in each of the dorms. A lot of detail in those reports. Stuff like who's not sleeping well, who's being too loud. We need to know, because if one of our girls is distressed, we want to help her. Some of our girls have never been this far from their parents, so we try to offer a little impromptu counseling in cases where a girl needs it, before sending her for more professional help.

"The RAs also tell us any gossip they hear about the teachers. Oh, if a girl's complaining about failing a test, tough shit; we don't even make a note of it. But if girls are talking about a teacher dozing in class, or someone acting like they're drunk... That we investigate.

"I mention all this so you'll understand how I know that, at any given time, you're the subject of a crush for approximately 30% of our student body."

I laughed out loud. "Me? Not some actor or celebrity?"

"Oh, those too. But mostly, it's you. To our girls, you're friendly, smart, helpful, masculine, and, to quote one girl a few years ago, 'soooo fucking sexy.'"

"Well, if that isn't an ego boost, I don't know what is!"

"Don't take it too seriously, Wes. Every girl crushes on someone, and since you're the only crush-worthy guy on campus, it was inevitable. But the crushes range from childish infatuations to ... well, to Leslie and her fully-formed fantasies about you. Made her an easy choice."

"That explains a lot, including how you're able to choose one for yourself."

"It's a good system for me, and now that you know about it, if the cost of your silence is that you use the same system, that's a cost I can justify."

I smiled warmly. "Not to become a cliche, Radmila, but this looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship." She shared the same smile, and my annual student assistant adventure was begun in earnest.

**********

At 10:00 am precisely, I heard a knock on my office door. Waiting long enough to let her get excited for a moment, as well as to wonder to myself how long she'd been standing there, waiting for the time to be right, I relented and called out, "Come in."

Good to her word, Leslie was there, in her full uniform as instructed. This was almost too good to be true. "Hello, Ms Montaigne. Please, come in, have a seat.".

She closed the door behind her, crossed to my desk, and sat primly on a chair, her head bowed. "Good morning, Professor. How may I serve you this morning?"

I chuckled. "You can start by looking at me, Ms Montaigne."

A look of worry crossed her face. "Have I displeased you, Sir?"

"Not remotely. No, not at all."

"Then, why are you calling me by my name, Sir?"

"Oh, that's what has you worried? You needn't. We just have some important things to talk about today, and I want you to think these things through intelligently. So, for the moment, you are deserving of my respect, and thus, I speak to you respectfully. Does that make sense?"

Her face lit up. "Oh, thank God. Of course, Mr. H. What do we need to talk about? You said something about ground rules yesterday."

"I did, indeed. Have you thought about what limits you might have in your service to me?"

"Honestly, I was so wound up from yesterday that I couldn't hold a thought in my head last night. The time I spend with you is ... dizzying."

I smiled. "You flatter me, Leslie, and I hope that's genuine. For now, I want your honesty. Can you give me that?"

"Of course, Mr. H. I'll certainly try. And ... if it's okay with you, I do have one worry. I ... I want you to take me, use me, make me your sex object. But I want you to do all those things. I'd really prefer that you not give me away to some other guy. But aside from that, I can't imagine any limits I'd place on you."

I smiled to assuage her fears. "I wouldn't offer you to another guy. If I make you mine... well, I don't share well with others. On the other hand, I do have limits for you though."

"Mr. Hawthorne, you don't understand... As long as I'm yours and you won't lend me out to another man, then I don't want you to have any limits for me. I came so hard yesterday, all because I was pleasing you. So, when I said you could ask anything of me and I'd do it, I mean it!"

Gently, I reached out and took her hand. "Leslie, of course you have limits. If I told you to go out this afternoon and start throwing rocks at old people in wheelchairs, I surely hope you wouldn't do it."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "But, you would never ask me to do something like that."

"No, of course not. I was merely illustrating that you do have limits, and that you should have limits. Would you like a more sexual servitude example?" I could see her shiver, but I pressed on. "If I told you to get a tattoo across your forehead that read 'cumslut', would you do it?"

Her head hung down. "Um... I'd really rather not, but if you demanded it of me, I'd do it. If that's what it took for you to keep me..." She was on the verge of tears.

"Leslie, look at me. I'm definitely keeping you. But, that's a limit for you. And that's a completely reasonable limit to have. Do you see? You're my perfect little slut girl. We just have to figure out what's out of bounds, for us both, okay?"

She sniffled back a tear. Such a little girl sometimes, such a woman others. "Yes, sir. I get it. So, can we have a no tattoo rule? My dad would kill me."

"Of course. In fact, I want to go one step beyond that. I won't do any permanent or long term harm to you. No scars, no burn marks, no tattoos, no piercings in weird places. Oh, maybe a red hand print on that perfect ass of yours from time to time, when you deserve it. But nothing that won't clear up after a couple of days. Is that fair?"

She beamed again. I was betting she'd never even considered some of those possibilities. "That would be a relief, Mr. H. Thank you."

"Same thing goes for school. I won't do anything that will hurt your grades, or keep you from getting into the best college for you."

A look flashed across Leslie's eyes that I couldn't quite place, but I figured we'd address that later. "For instance, we won't do anything in public. As exciting as the prospect might be to strip you naked and tie you to a tree, not allowing you to leave until you've found 5 random guys walking with women, and begged that they cum all over your face and tits..." Her eyes were wide as saucers. "As exciting as that might be, an arrest for public display of lewdness might keep you out of Harvard. So, nothing that would put your health, your safety, or your future in peril. Oh, that also means no pictures or videos."

"Mr. Hawthorne?" She sounded so ... small, like a little girl.

"Yes, Leslie?"

"I ... I told you the truth. I have fantasized for three years about giving myself to you, degrading myself for your pleasure, allowing you full control over my body. And ... I had those fantasies because... well, you're a hottie. You're really gorgeous, you have a great body, and a cute little butt that I want to take a bite out of every time you write something on the chalkboard.

"But it's more than that. You're smart, you're reasonable, you listen to us. You let us get away with things for a while, but you rein it in before it goes too far. And every time you taught us something beyond school, I'd get a little more certain that I wanted you to take me.

"But listening to you here and now... Thinking about how you're trying to protect me even while I'm ...". One tear escaped her left eye. "Mr. H., you're incredible. I don't know how you're not married, but for this year, I'll treat you better than any wife could. I promise.

"You say you won't let me get hurt, and I trust you. So, please, sir. Please. My body, my soul, is yours. Do anything to me you want. You don't need a tattoo to make me yours. I already am." It was easily the most articulate declaration of submission I'd ever heard.

"Leslie, there's two more things we need to talk through in a serious manner. And they require me to pry into your past. Will you let me ask a couple rather personal questions?"

She looked confused. "Mr. H., I'd let you fuck my ass, then lick your cock clean afterwards. I think a couple personal questions will be okay." I couldn't stop myself from laughing, which got her laughing just as hard. Took me a minute to regain my composure.

"First, are you a virgin?"

"No, sir. I've been with..."

I cut her off. "That's none of my business. As long as it's above zero, that's all that matters. Second, what's your birth control method of choice?"

"I'm on the pill. My mother got me on it, but Dad doesn't know."

"That's probably for the best. During your last physical exam, did your doctors check for..."

"Mr. H., I'm clean. No need to worry. I assume you are too?"

"Well, in that case, there's really no reason I can think of not to put you to work as my very personal assistant. Is there, my dirty little whore?"

She moaned loud and long. God, this was going to be such a great year. "No, Professor. Please... How can I serve you?"

"You said you fantasized about me. What do you do when you fantasize about giving yourself to me?"

"I ... I touch myself."

"Like, you touch your fingers to your toes?" I wanted to hear her say it. Just like I knew she wanted me to.

Obligingly, she blushed bright red. "No, Sir. I ... I touch my ... pussy."

"Do you make yourself cum?"

Another blush, even redder now. "Every night, Professor."

"Show me. Sit up here on my desk, spread your legs, and show me how you touch your pussy."

Her eyes got big again. "Now, slut. On my desk and start rubbing your clit."

She hiked her skirt up, showing me she was wearing a pair of lacy black boyshorts. Then she dutifully got onto my desk, spread her legs, and started to slip them off.

"No. Leave them on, for right now. Rub your clit through them."

I suspected she'd never put this kind of show on for anyone before, because she wasn't sure where to look or how to act. "Fuck, you stupid cunt. Do I have to tell you everything? Look me in the eyes and rub your clit fast and hard. You got that?"

That was all she needed, the shame became an aphrodisiac. She locked eyes with me, and I could see the lust coursing through her. She used her left hand to find her clit, and rubbed fast and hard. Every few seconds, she'd stop and spank her pussy, hard. Her moaning got louder, her breath shorter.

"Does my little whore really play with her clit like that while keeping her tits hidden away?"

"No, Sir." She reached up with both hands and yanked her shirt apart, buttons flying everywhere. With no bra to hold them in, she grabbed and roughly pulled a nipple with one hand, while the other went back to her clit.

"Is that how my whore likes her tits played with? Does she like having her nipples pulled, bitten?"

It seemed like every word I said got her hotter. Her voice was ripped away, and all she could do to answer me was pant and nod. And it wouldn't be long before she drenched those boyshorts with her juices. I just had to push her over the edge.

"Such a slutty little whore," I whispered in her ear. "Playing rough with her big tits and rubbing her hard clit faster and faster. My cunt puts on a great show for her Professor. All that's missing is..." I waited.

"Please, Professor. May I cum?"

"Is that how good little cumsluts ask permission?"

By this point, her breathing was so ragged, I was afraid she'd pass out. "Oh fuck, Sir! Please! Please, may your slut cum?"

I chuckled darkly. "Getting better..."

"Fuck! Please, Professor! Please let your dirty little whore show you how hard she cums when she thinks about you, every night. Please let your cunt cum, Sir!"

Barely breathing into her ear, I ordered her, "Cum for me, whore."

Her body began to thrash wildly. Her tits shook as a guttural scream was torn from her throat. I stepped back, watching her boyshorts become darkened with the evidence of her orgasm, leaking around the edges and filling my office with the scent of musk and arousal.

I reached behind her, lowering her shoulders onto my desk, because she'd lost all control. She lay there, panting and shaking as the intensity of her orgasm wound down.

**********

Leslie had passed out on my desk, her orgasm so intense that it surprised her. I gently arranged her so her head was supported, and waited for her to come around. Took 45 minutes, which I was unashamedly proud of.

She awoke with a start, more than a bit addled. Took her a little bit to realize where she was and remember why she was there. When realization dawned on her, she blushed furiously and adorably. "Sir! I am so sorry, Sir! Please forgive your whore, but you just gave me the most incredible orgasm of my life. I've never passed out like that before!"

I smiled down at her, a mixture of kind and predatory. "I'll let you make it up to me... Tell me, slut. In your room at night, after you've made yourself cum, what happens next?"

"Normally, I take a shower and fall into a sweet dreamy sleep."

"Not today. I think you should start apologizing to me."

She took my hint and bounded onto the floor. Her fingers fumbled with my belt in her hurry, but I appreciated her eagerness. Soon enough, I was balls deep in my whore's mouth, but my erotic taunting of her had only just begun.

"Mmmmm... So eager to thank your Professor. I approve. Your Professor gives you the best orgasms, doesn't he?". She mumbled her assent, not wanting to pull me out of her mouth.

"Such a good cock-sucking whore. That's it... Get me nice and hard for what comes next." She moaned around my cock, her excitement growing.

"Slut, have you ever been fucked by another woman? Ever opened your slutty legs for another girl to lick your cunt? Ever buried your face in another girl's pussy, and licked and sucked her until she came all over your pretty face?" Her breath was getting shallow again.

She opened her mouth to breathe, stroking me long and slow. Between her blow job and her earlier performance, I was as hard as I've ever been. "No, Sir, I've never been with another woman. Would Sir like to watch me service another girl?"

"Do you even know what pussy tastes like?"

"No, Sir. May I please you by finding a girl to eat out while my Professor watches and teaches me how to properly lick pussy?"

"I have another idea. Up on my desk, cunt. Hands and knees, head on the desk."

When she'd hurried into place, I slid her soaking wet boyshorts off. "Slut, you need to be more quiet, or people will wonder what's going on in here. Open your mouth; this should do the trick."

She dutifully complied, though her eyes were wide with wonder. I stuffed her cum-soaked panties in her mouth. "Suck on these like a good little slut while I fuck your wet cunt."

It took me all of three seconds to get back behind her, but the effect of my debasement of her, and of the taste of her own juices in her sopping wet panties, had her pussy positively leaking. She was so wet, I was sure I could shove my cock all the way in her in one stroke. But I wasn't done taunting her yet, so I got up on my knees on the desk, my cock resting lewdly in her ass crack, and leaned down to her ear.

"So horny. My slutty little whore has the wettest cunt I've ever felt. I think you like the taste of your own juices, don't you?" With her panties in her mouth, she couldn't talk, but I had a pretty good idea from her moans that she couldn't think straight enough to speak anyway.

"I wonder... Which would my fuckdoll like better: sucking on her wet panties while I fuck her, or having some other slut's juicy snatch to bury her face in while I fuck her?" The sheer depravity of this was getting to me too. I had to fuck this girl, right fucking now. So I leaned up, slid my cock underneath her, and slapped her clit a few times.

Then the situation, her own desire, and my words combined to push her over the edge. She started screaming into her boyshorts, cumming hard enough that her pussy squirted. That was my cue, so while she was in the throes, I slammed into her, balls-deep in one stroke.

Like a machine, I drilled into her, hard and fast, demanding her, claiming her as my toy, my cunt, my fuckdoll. Her pussy spasmed over and over, clutching on my cock as tight as she could, only to have me slip away and then right back in to punish her cunt again. There was nothing tender or gentle about this. I wasn't making Harlequin novel love with her. I was dirty-book-in-a-plain-brown-wrapper fucking her.