A Different Kind of Discipline

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Cheeky college sophomore gets some cheek of her own.
1.9k words
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I was visiting lecturer for one Semester at her college. It was a new experience for me, a different country, different culture. I was young, serious, career driven. I took my sabbatical with a view to broadening my professional experience, establishing myself and consolidating upon my reputation.

But, life happens as they say, while you're making plans.

"So...the soaring nose of the airplane, piercing into virgin skies...the diving thrust of the cylindrical submarine, penetrating the black abyss...the charging head of steam, sending the caboose into that dark and mysterious tunnel...these are the underlying sexual images that so definitively mark the mind and work of a young Sigmund Freud..."

The entire class suddenly erupted into laughter, a joke directed at me I gathered, during my "Fundamental Psychology 1" lecture. I had been stopped mid sentence.

"May we have that joke again?" I continued, sarcastic in tone..."Perhaps you can let me in on the humour". The lecture hall, 75+ strong, was suddenly silent...pin drop silent.

I continued, aloof and arrogant, "As I thought, brave behind the trenches, but soft as a mouse now..."

And then, from a row two-thirds back in the hall, a defiant and contrary voice bellowed,"I said..." (pausing for effect)"Seems like more than justFreud who had a one-TRACKED mind!" If her initial comment had evinced a supportive outburst of laughter, then this bold and unashamed owning up, tore down the house...and at my expense no less. I finished the lecture timidly, displaying about half the will and determination with which I'd started. I was literally red faced for the next 20 minutes, but I got through it.

At the end of the class, none of the usual post lecture consultations ensued. No enthusiastic or ambitious students hovered around for some personal questioning or debate. No horny young students came to flirt. No arrogant "wanna be's" challenged anything I'd said. I had been ostracized by this flippant remark.

I stood silently, quite defeated, and watched row after row of the 18, 19 and 20 year old college students amble out of the hall. They in their faded jeans and cheap sneakers. They with no money, and even less intellect. They the rebellious youth. But there was a spring in their step, for they had gotten one over the regime. I put the last of my papers in my brief case, and looking up noticed her, casual and carefree, descending slowly. She had black hair, green eyes and a nifty little figure -- she was a witch, a stunning little cunt, and a witch.

She shot a glance at me. She with all the power, I her defeated prey. And, still looking at me, she made a side remark to her two friends, at which all three burst into laugher. I remained silent. I smiled politely, acknowledging her prowess and not competing with her. I submitted to her superiority for now. I had experience on my side, and patience was required.

Lacey Jones' remark stuck. Later, in the lecturers' canteen, I was greeted by the odd smirk, or jibe. "Heard that young Lacey took you down ol' boy...scuttled you rightoff track" I let them have their laughter, but I was burning inside. At the campus arcade, whilst returning a dvd, more mockery in the form of "choo choo" noises and "Freudian slip" jokes. Who was this notorious Lacey Jones?

A few days later, a Thursday evening to be precise, I headed down to one of the female dormitories, to return a paper submitted to me by one of the senior students. It was a proposal for a thesis on post surrealist free thinkers. I had quite enjoyed "critting" and editing it, and I was keen to discuss the way forward with the student. So I located her dorm and decided to pay a personal visit. Though this was officially not permitted, the feeling at the college was quite liberal, and I didn't think twice about venturing into a women's dorm at dusk.

When I got there, I established her room number and walked down the hall to pay an unexpected visit. The corridors were surprisingly quiet, but I stopped a rushing young freshman to ask her where everyone was. "It's the Liberty Carnival, you know...1st Thursday of October", and off she went.

Well, I thought, I'll just slip the paper under her door and head home. But providence had other ideas for me, and as I approached my intended destination, room 22, I heard, within the silent corridors, what sounded like a whimpering coming from the adjacent room #20. "Who would leave a puppy alone in her room like this?" I thought. "Ridiculous, I'll just go in and see if it's all right."

But when I entered, it was a different sort of puppy I found altogether.

There, before my grateful eyes, was Lacey Jones...all alone...eyes shut tight...shunting her little cunt. I froze, not wanting to startle her. I just wanted to watch, let her do herself unaware of my presence, let her open her eyes afterwards, and feel the shame of her exposure.

She must have thought everyone was at the party, didn't even care to lock her door. A tacky porn mag was on the bed beside her, half open, but seemingly of no interest to her now. Her mobile was lying a few inches further away, and under the bed, peeping out just a tad, was a pink vibrator. But Lacey was so far gone in her thoughts, that none of these accoutrements mattered. Her eyes were closed, and she was masturbating to a steady pace, seeking out her orgasm.

The minutes passed like hours. But I breathed deep and silent, witnessing her pleasure building, stroke by slippery stroke. How wet young snatches truly are! With every second that ticked by, I got harder and harder. After 5 full minutes (what felt like an eternity) I thought, Fuck this!

I approached her bed and pulled out my cock, rock hard and oozing with pre-cum. I started wanking, slowly, wetting the top half of my pole with the glistening clear fluid that was seeping out of my spout. I kept watching her face, her one stroking hand, and the nipple that she had begun to expose with her other.

I must have started really jacking hard, because she became aware of the sound and my presence, and opened her eyes. At once she froze and prepared to scream, but I cut her off, so that she lay there, mouth open, jaw agape, triangle of fine pussy hairs exposed.

"Go on" I said, quite calm and collected, "finish it off for me, you dirty little cunt."

Her jaw dropped further. She was astounded. The look of total astonishment, the shock, the shame, and the disgust...had all paralysed Lacey temporarily. Her pure and utter defenselessness threw me into a new zone of excitement. I started cumming, thick juicy ropes of white spunk, rope upon rope, all over.

The first jet shot straight into her face, splattered on her cheek, the tip of her nose and down the left side of her lips. Then second shot straight into her wide-open mouth, and partially over her right cheek. The third I was particularly proud of, it lept quite unexpected, over her forehead, into her jet-black hair, pearl white and sticky. The fourth was a dim and faint reminder of its proud predecessors, managing only a heavy teardrop, which I ejected with a fierce grip of my fist. It oozed slowly out of my spout - both of us watching it intently to see where it would elect to go -- and with all the alacrity of a dollop of Canadian maple syrup, splashed onto the tip of her middle finger, which itself sat on the very nub of her slit, her swollen clitty.

Fuck did that feel good, it was about the most intense orgasm I'd ever had. Here was this hot ass sophomore, building up a right Mount St Helens of an eruption, and just as it approached, I had seized it from her and splattered it over her. Oh yea!

Young Lacey was aghast. She moved to speak, but then began to gargle on the cum that I had just rationed her, and burst into a coughing fit. Upon recovering, she displayed her disgust with an expression that remains a warm memory to this day.

She began to construct her case: "Fuck..Ing...Bast..."

"Oh shut the fuck up you little pervert..." I cut her off. "You love being the dirty slut, I know it as well as you."

She tried again. "I'm gonna..."

But I foiled her feeble attempt to regain her pride, by pushing the first stream of piss out my still exposed, and now semi-hard, cock.

Shock once again arrested her words.

My piss attempt was quite feeble. The cum caused me to split my piss sideways in both directions,not my intended target! I regathered my strength, and pissed harder. This time it shot straight out, warm and firm and wet.

I hit her right in the mouth. She began to gulp and flay, much as a shocked college student would do if she were dropped unexpectedly into a swimming pool. I just kept going, drenching her face, hair, and then down to her semi exposed tits. I left enough in store to give her jeans and the V of her crotch a good shower too, and her bed, poor thing, she must have flipped the mattress to sleep that night, and heaven knows how she explained the smell to her roommie.

I lifted my pants and looked at her. The shock, thank goodness, had kept her silent. "Here's to you Lacey Jones, hottest piece of ass on campus" I said, feeling as I left her room, the dark foreboding of a destiny of humiliation, expulsion and probably worse. Fuck, I thought, what the fuck is wrong with you, you fuck head, this is the end of your career...etc. etc.

I awoke at 5am, sick to my gut. I tossed, turned and struggled til 7. Got to face the music, I reckoned, and went for a jog, had a shower and the customary morning Starbucks. I headed to my office.

I got in at 9.15. Secretary politely nods. "Ok, she's being cordial..."

And there it was, on my desk, in clear view, the letter I had been foreboding all night.

I sat down and turned on my desktop, in no hurry to face my sentence. I thought, I'll check my mail for the last time, finish my coffee, lean back and enjoy the morning sun. Then I'll open the letter, read about the disciplinary hearing I'm summonsed to, and bid farewell to my colleagues before they find out and shun me forever. Then I'll pack my suitcase, head for the airport, and catch the first flight home ...Fuck.

So I sat down, read my email, and finished my coffee, enjoying the glorious morning sun. I swiveled back to my desk and grabbed my letter knife and the official letter addressed to me.

"Listen you fucking pervert, who the fuck do you think you are.

I spent 2 hours trying to get your piss out of my mattress.

I spent another 2 blow-drying it before my roommate got back from the party (which co-incidentally I was forced to miss!)

And I spent another fucking 2, frigging myself off thinking about you, you sick fuck!

I have arranged, via your secretary (what sick shit have you gotten up to with her I wonder), a private consultation with you

You disgust me.

Lacey"

My wood had returned with a vengeance, and as I began to rub one off, right there at my desk, I pondered on what young Lacey might encounter at our upcoming consult.

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AnonymousAnonymousabout 10 years ago
Suggestions for improvement

Your story has a lot of potential, but some parts were unrealistic. A professor who "was young, serious, career driven" wouldn't just walk into the dorms to personally deliver a paper to a student; senior students rarely live in dorms anyways! That's not how college works. The professor really jumped the gun when he came, and that event happened so suddenly that it seemed unwarranted. I liked the kinkiness and general idea, but I think you could improve on it.

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