A Meeting with the Dean

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This story is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living, dead, or fictional is entirely unintentional. Sexual activity should occur only between consenting, competent adults in the absence of coercion and events depicted herein should not be taken as an endorsement of similar behavior. What is erotic in fantasy can be reprehensible in reality and one should not confuse the two.

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The day was bright and crisp with speckles of light filtering through the trees, but inside my mood was dark. Normally, I loved walking across campus, from my office to class, seeing the students chatting, studying, and sometimes just relaxing. I loved the feeling of people learning about the world and who they were, and I treasured that I got to teach them. The rhythmic clacking of my heels on the brick path was normally soothing to me, but not today. Today it was a reminder of the mess I had gotten myself into.

At thirty-five, you would think I had it all together. Teaching Professor at a major university, wife, mother of two, Girl Scout leader and respected member of my community. And somehow on top of all that, I managed to stay fit. Those heels clicking one after another were supporting a pair of long, toned legs that I worked hard to keep. My hips were bigger than when I had met my husband, Mike, in graduate school, but were still shapely. A woman's hips, my husband called them, rather than a girl's. My stomach wasn't as flat as it had been before the kids, but nothing to complain about. My breasts were even a bit fuller than they used to be, full C-cups instead of B's, and just as perky. Motherhood had been kind to me. And for all that, I thought my best feature was my long auburn hair, currently clipped loosely at the back of my head. Dressed today in a silky orange wrap dress and tan leather heels, I was still able to turn heads. Like I said, if you didn't know any better you'd think I had it all. But appearances can be deceiving.

The problem, I thought, not for the first time, as I approached the college admin building, is that I don't know when to give up.

Mike and I met in graduate school and we married before I finished my PhD. Not long after the wedding, Mike finished his dissertation and was ready to graduate. He had been offered a tenure track job at a big university and they had offered to hire me as well as a Research Assistant Professor. Not a tenure track job, but it would give me a paycheck and resources to publish with. But I wasn't ready yet. My dissertation was coming along, but wasn't even half baked yet. Without a defense I wouldn't have a PhD, and without a PhD I couldn't take my job. Then I'd just be another stay-at-home wife until I could finish it up. That didn't sit right with me. I love my husband and he's a good man, but I wasn't raised to be anyone's homemaker. So I went to my advisor to see what might be done. We talked, one thing led to another, and somehow I ended up bent over his desk with my panties around my ankles and his cock in my pussy. I had to fuck him twice more but he made sure I got my PhD on time.

After that, life unfolded. We moved, we took our jobs, and after a few years we had our first child. And then our second. My position turned out to be a lot more temporary than advertised and I ended up staying home with the kids while they were little. Mike was pissed about how the college had treated me, but tenure track jobs are hard to come by. He worked even harder for tenure to make sure we'd all be supported and in hopes of having more options in the future. Finally, a chance came to move somewhere new. A new university that would not only tenure Mike, but hire me on as an Adjunct. Academia is a brutal place and after being forced out, I thought my chances of coming back were somewhere between none and don't make me laugh. But Mike's hard work paid off and, once again, his record was strong enough to carry us both. He started as a tenured Associate Professor and I was back in the classroom. It felt good to be more than a homemaker again, but it wasn't enough and it felt like something that Mike had given me, rather than something I'd earned all on my own. Adjuncts are the temps of the academic world; hired semester by semester, paid little, and earning almost no respect. This was not what I had signed up, and worked so hard, for.

Eventually an opportunity came around- a chance at a Teaching Assistant Professor position. Still just teaching, no opportunity to earn tenure, but more pay, a better title, and a lot more security. It was a lot more like what I had always wanted. But again, academia is a brutal place. More than a hundred candidates applied for the position, candidates with more experience than me, or more papers than me, or even just younger than me. I knew if I wanted the job, I had to do something to really stand out.

It had worked once before, so somehow I just ended up going the same route. I arranged to have a private meeting with the hiring committee- three older professors. Brian, skinny and vegan, Sam, overweight and past his intellectual prime, and Dan, our gray-haired department chair. Before, in grad school, I'd stumbled accidentally into fucking my way out of a jam. I made my pitch a lot more directly this time and they caught on fast. I stripped while they watched, knowing that from this day forward my colleagues, and my husband's colleagues, would know exactly how my tits looked. I sucked each of their cocks, finishing by swallowing their cum. And I let them take turns fucking me on a table, each one holding a leg while the third pounded my pussy. I knew every time I saw them from then on, I'd know what it felt like to have them in me. They would always know how my cunt felt on their cocks. But it was worth it to get my job.

It was only when they were done that they told me that since I was already an Adjunct in the department, my hire would have to be reviewed by a larger committee, including Dean Louis Franks. From the way they smiled at me, I could tell that there was no way that my little sales pitch would be hidden from him. My meeting with that larger committee went how you'd think. Four faculty, including Dan, Brian and Sam, as well as the Dean met me in my office and they took turns with me for two hours. I tried to keep some semblance of control, ordering them to line up so I could suck one of them after another, and at first I thought it was working. I'd swallowed everything two of them could give me and was working on the third. But then they took over and I found myself on my hands and knees on cheap institutional linoleum with Dean Franks' cock in my cunt while Brian pounded his dick between my lips. It's a shame I can't put "spit-roasting" on my CV!

Which brings me to today, I thought sourly as I pulled open the door to the admin building and walked inside. After that, my Department Chair and my Dean knew exactly what I was capable of and what I might be coerced into. I hadn't even caught my breath yet, lying on that dirty linoleum with the taste of cum in my mouth and semen leaking out of my pussy, when the Dean put his hand on my face, looked me in the eyes, and pronounced my fate.

"Lana, that was a very convincing interview and you'll get your job. But from here on when I tell you, you're going to show up and you're going to do whatever I tell you, whenever I tell you, with whoever I tell you. Otherwise, Mike will know his pretty little wife is a slut."

Walking up the building stairs, I felt ice slide down my spine at the memory. I got my job, but that wasn't the end of it by a long shot. From time to time the Dean has called on me to do things. Once it was to entertain a collection of donors after a fundraising event. I almost stumble as I remember gyrating topless to a hip-hop song in a room full of old men, knowing that was only the beginning. Another time he used me to "welcome" the new university president. I was naked and sucking his cock when I heard our new president say he was glad that some of the female faculty still knew that their place was on their knees with a dick in their mouth. I didn't even hesitate when he said it; I just kept sucking, fist pumping up and down on his hard cock, until he came in my mouth. After, I told him it had been an honor to welcome our new president. I had gotten good at being a slut; I could deep throat like I was born to it, and knew exactly how much lube it took for a cock to slide easily into my ass. I'd even learned how to eat pussy, because it turns out that there are plenty of women who are happy to take advantage of someone in my position. I wondered sometimes why I put up with it, how it was that I even could put up with it. Once or twice, I wondered if somehow perversely I'd come to enjoy it. But that couldn't possibly be.

And that brought me here, because whatever else Dean Franks asked of me, he required that once a week I "meet" with him. I took a deep breath, grabbed the handle, and pulled open the door to the College Office. Inside it was nicer than most other places on campus, as is usually the case with College offices. Plush carpet, dark wood furniture, university iconography scattered tastefully about. Every element meant to inspire confidence in the intellectual rigor of the institution. The quiet dignity of the office was quite the contrast to what was going to happen to me here. What had happened to me many times before. What was going to continue happening to me here.

I approached a smartly dressed, late fifties woman sitting behind a round desk. She looked up at me with a tight smile as I approached.

"Hello, Dr. Drake, can I help you?" The Dean's executive assistant, Penny, asked me.

The thin fabric of my knee length dress swished against my thighs as I approached her.

"Good afternoon, Penny. I'm here for my appointment with the Dean."

I suspected Penny knew the sorts of things the Dean got up to, and why I was here, but her expression didn't change aside from a slight tightening at the corner of her eyes and a pursing of her lips. Somehow, I knew that she very much did not like me. She nodded tightly.

"Of course. He's on the phone right now, but he left instructions that you go right in."

This was new. He was always ready and waiting when I arrived for our weekly meeting. Sometimes he already had his penis out, stroking it behind his desk as he waited. Other times, he was flipping through a dirty magazine (have to evade the campus internet filters somehow!) looking for ideas. Most of the time it was just a quick, efficient blowjob and I was on my way. Sometimes he'd insist on fucking me, but that was rare. Most of the time I didn't even have to take off all of my clothes, though he usually did like seeing me topless.

I nodded at Penny, and walked past her desk to let myself into the Dean's office. The door opened silently on well greased hinges and closed smoothly behind me. The room was generous, with thick rugs over carpet. A pair of chairs sat before a large, richly grained wooden desk. Soft, indirect lighting highlighted diplomas and other trinkets announcing the Dean's sterling academic career and reputation. And behind that desk was Dean Franks.

Dean Franks was in his early sixties and balding, though still with a fringe of light brown hair. He was only about five foot nine, and so only an inch or so taller than I am, but he was still a large man. His belly spilled over his belt and his fleshy face was flanked by drooping jowls. Today he was wearing a striped dress shirt with an open collar and a blue blazer. His pale brown eyes met mine as I entered and he waved me forward, thick sausage fingers clutched around a phone at his ear. As I walked into his office he looked me up and down, starting at my feet and tracing up my firm legs, across my hips, and lingering at my breasts before reaching my face again.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, but the numbers don't favor it this year," he rumbled into the phone before covering the mouthpiece with one hand.

"Sorry about the call," he said to me, "Go ahead and strip and we'll get started. Leave the shoes on."

He uncovered the mouthpiece and turned slightly to the side, looking at something on his computer. I'll say this for the Dean: you always know where you stand with him, and right now I'm standing in his office being commanded to take off my clothes.

With a sigh, I reach for my waist and undo the thin fabric ties that hold my dress closed. They come loose easily in my fingers and I pull to each side, opening my dress and slipping it off of my shoulders. I catch it in my elbows and glance up, but he's still watching his computer screen. I let it drop, pooling at my feet while the Dean continues his call. I'm standing there in a white strapless bra and matching string bikini panties and he can't even be bothered to look at me. As I reach behind my back for the clasp of my bra I suspect I should be grateful. Maybe he's getting bored of me. Maybe soon he'll stop using me like this.

The clasp comes undone and I toss the bra onto an armchair. He turns slightly, his eyes locking onto my exposed breasts. They're bigger than they used to be, perky and round, capped by small light red nipples. Mike says that they're perfectly shaped and as firm now as they were when I was in my twenties. It must be cold in his office; as he looks at my tits I can feel my nipples hardening.

After a moment, he nods at me and I know what he wants. I reach down and hook my thumbs in the side strings of my panties and push. The small triangle of fabric slides down, revealing my neatly trimmed brown bush. I've thought about shaving it before. I'm sure Franks wouldn't object, and it would make it easier to clean up after my... performances. There's nothing fun about trying to wash the cum of a dozen men out of your hair. But that would feel like I was accepting the role he's forced me into. As long as I still have my pussy hair, I can't possibly be a slut, right? I bend at the waist and lift one foot, then the other, stepping out of my small underwear. All the while Dean Franks keeps his eyes on me, watching my tits dangle as I bend forward, staring intently at my pussy as my lips become visible. I toss my panties onto the chair, standing in my heels and nothing else in front of this old, fat, balding man. I can see my reflection in the polished metal of a lamp on his desk, my tits and cunt on display for anyone to see, all at his command. I meet his eyes again, and see them brimming with his victory over a younger woman. Out of some sense of pride, or defiance, my hands come up and settle on my hips. I lift my chin and straighten my spine, my breasts held up to his gaze. Of course, it's a gesture of strength, a refusal to be embarrassed by this exposure. It's certainly not so I can make sure he sees every inch of me, from the tips of my toes to the hard nipples on my breasts.

He drinks me in, his lips quirking slightly as he notices my posture and grabs a pen to jot something on his desk, phone still clutched to his ear. As he scribbles something quickly he grunts once or twice at whoever he's talking to. Then he puts the pen down and picks up the pad of paper, turning it so that I can see what he's written. My stomach clenches as I read the large block letters on the page:

STAND THERE AND PLAY WITH YOURSELF

My eyes snap back to his face and he grins before settling back in his chair. He sets the pad down and then gestures at me with at open hand.

I take a deep breath and spread my feet a little wider apart. With my right hand I reach down, sliding my fingers through my bush and over my clit. I part my pussy lips delicately and slide my fingers inside just a little to moisten them. I'm sure this is just how I usually feel. I can't possibly be wet because of what I'm doing. Gently, looking slightly down as I focus on my hands, I begin to slide my fingers up and down, lightly rubbing my clit before returning to press my fingers more deeply into my pussy, sliding up and down its length before returning to my clit. I start to take quicker, shallower breaths. I don't masturbate often, but I've known how since I was young and sometimes I like to put on a show for Mike. I look up at the Dean and see him smiling, watching as I stand here naked and rubbing my pussy. He sees me looking and smirks before waving his free hand over his chest. I'm confused for a moment and then I realize. I obey, and my left hand comes up to cup my breast. He smiles widely as I rub my left tit and then my right, pinching my nipples as I flick my clit. My body is responding; I can feel the heat beginning to roll out of my cunt even as I feel pleasure radiating from my breasts. The sweet pinches at my nipples balance the firmer, faster rubbing at my pussy. In my reflection is his lamp I can see my knees bending just a bit, thighs bowing out as I rub, and pinch, and stroke myself for this ugly, fat man. And because I'm looking at the lamp, I see when the door to Dean Franks' office opens.

It opens just a bit and Penny steps sideways through the narrow gap as I reflexively bend my knees and fold my body into a curve. One hand spreads out to try to cover my pussy while my other comes up to try to cover my tits. It's not like I can fool her, though, and even as I cover myself I am effectively sticking my naked ass out towards her. I look back at the Dean and see him wave Penny forward. With only the briefest hesitation she steps around me and walks over to his desk, handing a file to him. He nods at her and glances at me, bent at the middle, red faced and trying to hide myself. He frowns momentarily and then jots something new on the pad before holding it up so that I can see:

KEEP GOING

My jaw drops as I look back at him. Penny reads the pad too and glances at me before looking away and shifting slightly on her feet. Slowly, I straighten up and find my cunt with one hand and my breast with the other. My fingers begin to flick quickly and firmly around my pussy, making quiet wet sounds. The Dean opens the file from Penny and flips a few pages, not even watching me as I masturbate in his office.

"Yeah, I have the file right here. Let me see..." he says, still looking down.

Penny turns slightly and looks me over. My knees are a little bent again and my fingers are rubbing my clit furiously. As I clutch my right nipple between my fingers and pinch firmly I meet her eyes. One woman, well-dressed and professional, the other naked and frigging herself. My pussy spasms once and a wave of pleasure makes me gasp softly. She hears me and her lips press together, disapproval and contempt glaring from her eyes. My face and chest flush. I have never been as humiliated as I am right now, naked and playing with my cunt and tits while the Dean's secretary looks on. I flinch as pleasure shudders through. I tear my eyes from her, close them and try to concentrate on how my body feels. I try to imagine it's Mike watching me, but I keep seeing Penny's look in my mind and a new surge of hot shame washes over me.

"Thank you, Penny. You can go," I hear the Dean say. My eyes snap open and I see him hand her the file back. She nods, turns and walks towards me. I can't meet her eyes, but I feel them boring into me anyway. She passes my shoulder, almost touching me and I smell a whiff of floral perfume. As I hear her open, and then close, the door behind me I realize I hadn't even slowed down as she walked by. I just kept rubbing my cunt. The wet sounds from my pussy grow louder and I begin panting as I pleasure myself. I start to feel an orgasm building. I hate it, I'm humiliated by it, but I'm going to cum.

"Okay, that's enough," Dean Franks says.

As if slapped, I look up at him, my fingers still sliding over my cunt. I'm right on the edge. I only need a little more.