Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 05

He still held the money he'd embezzled, but there was no joy in it. He hadn't so much as ventured outside the house in weeks.

Paranoia had set in over time. He was convinced that somehow Cindy was watching him. He dared not dispose of the sex doll or any of the other toys she'd left for fear of her. They all still sat in the doll's box in his garage. He was worried that she might return, and terrified that she might not.

"What can I do for you?" Johnson nervously asked the plainly dressed man.

"Well, are you Stephen Johnson or not?"

The question nagged at him. Was he?

While his body had eventually recovered from the abuses of those three days, his soul seemed empty, and permanently marked by her youthful mind games and indomitable sexual power. He hardly thought of anything else anymore.

Since Cindy left, he'd never felt so alone in the world. He still marveled at the kind of planning, courage, and iron-will she must have had in order to do something like that to him, and the kind of pain she must have been in to motivate it. The guilt of the terrible things he had done had not subsided, but thoughts of her scent, the thin straps crisscrossing tightly up her calves, her blonde pigtails, and her flushed reactions to him never seemed to give his mind any rest. They mixed together with the deep sexual subjugation of her huge rubber cock stuffing his ass, and her silky pussy lips engulfing his enslaved cock. The flashbacks were nightmarish in intensity, and still managed to make his heart pound and his body sweat.

The unforgettable connection of being inside her was animal, and the memory always sparked a quivering longing all throughout his body. She had torn a piece of his soul away that night. He still couldn't understand how he had allowed her to consume him like that; all he knew was the terrible emptiness he now felt inside.

Was he really Stephen Johnson anymore?

"Yes, that's my name," he sighed.

"Package for you sir. You'll have to sign for it."

And still, there was Sarah. She haunted him like a spectre in the deep recesses of his mind, as if she was the life he could have had. Sarah was the only one he had encountered who actually seemed to care about him, and he treated her worse than anyone. He felt completely unforgivable--broken.

Johnson was apathetic about the plain white box. "Who's it from?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say, sir. I'm just a courier. You can refuse delivery of course, but the identity of the consigner was to remain confidential."

Johnson turned the box over. In the corner in small, pink unforgettable handwriting was written: 'My Naughty Little Doggy'.

A wholly unexpected flood of adrenaline pumped through his veins. Johnson's heart suddenly raced like he'd just run a four-minute mile. Cindy had sent something to him.

His Cindy!

"Yes. Okay." He couldn't breathe, and cleared his dry throat, trying not to give away his reaction to the courier. It was a terrible rush--both frightening and electrifying. His hand shakily grabbed the pen looking impatiently for the appropriate place to scrawl out a signature, so he could dismiss the courier. "Here?"

He looked at the package with intense apprehension. He hated his fear; he hated the absolute need he felt in the pit of his stomach.

He tore at the box in his hands. He was scared and quickened by the prospect that she wasn't done with him after all, and felt more alive than he had in months. He couldn't explain it. He just wanted to hear her again, to see her. He salivated at the thought of her taste.

Three items dropped out of the box. One was a compact digital camera. Another was a small plastic vacuum bag, which looked to lock in a tiny cotton thong. His trembling fingers fumbled like those of an impatient child in his attempt to rip open the bag. The instant he penetrated it, air rushed in, and the cunty scent was released.

It was Cindy.

The unique aroma of her sex seemed to seep directly into his pores, and his cock hardened as if he was a fucking Pavlovian dog. He urgently pressed the filthy garment to his face, his entire body shivering and alive in a whirlwind of unexpected emotions. His tongue snaked out of his mouth, wanting to taste her. He felt vile and pathetic, like a filthy dog eating its own feces, and yet his conditioned instincts overpowered him. He sobbed uncontrollable tears into the damp material, realizing his desperate weakness in reaction to the pungent smell in his nose.

He almost didn't notice the slip of paper that floated out of the box and landed on the floor:

Hi Professor!

Are you still pussy-whipped, doggy? Is your dick all slicked up? Are you shaved? Did the naughty boy open his present before reading my note?

Her written words leapt off the page as if she was there taunting him in person. Johnson's hand grabbed his cock. Just like that, it was as if his body was on automatic pilot. The note continued:

God, I still get wet just thinking about it. It's not fair. I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine, but I guess you gave me a taste of Sarah's too. I wish you hadn't been such a miserable prick to her. Or maybe I don't. Doggy. Jeez, that's terrible of me, huh?

I'm still mad at you, Professor. I won't let you forget what you did to her. She's never forgotten you, that's for sure. She'd be so angry if she knew what I did. Sarah's my only friend, really, but I hate that you might be the only one in the world who actually understands me. I wish I were a better person.

Anyway, I played hooky from class today and fingered my pussy all afternoon for you. God, I was soaked! I couldn't help it. I thought I'd overnight you and your dolly some new panties to play with. You still have her, right? She was expensive! I just used dad's money to buy her. I was too pissed at him to spend the pity money that he gave me for ignoring me all those years on anything else (well, except college).

I want you to wear my panties for me. Don't worry. They'll stretch out. I bet you'll look really cute--just like a little stripper slut! Then I want your dolly to wear that strap-on I left, and you can get on top so she can ass-fuck you just like I did. Maybe dolly can wear one of your suits?

I can't wait to see the pictures! Don't worry. The camera has a self-timer. Hurry up, though. My pussy is wet just imagining you and your dolly playing dress up together. My email address is written at the bottom there.

His hand rubbed his cock while he thought of the doll. It sat in its box in the garage, still wearing Cindy's slut outfit from that night. He couldn't bring himself to touch it anymore than necessary for him to put it away. The thought of having to open that crate again tied his stomach in knots, yet his cock remained dutifully faithful to Cindy's musky pheromones. She couldn't be serious?

Remember the rules, Professor? I still have Ronald's number. Maybe I should come over and make you do it.

Ever tasted girl-pee, Doggy?

Love,

Cindy

Johnson's heart raced. His body was flushed with perspiration, and his legs were weak. He looked around with a deep sense of paranoia. Where was she? Was she here? His fucking cock raged in his fingers. He hated her, but he craved her. He was scared and disgusted, and yet the possibility of another visit from her was painfully irresistible.

He sat on his bed and pressed the thong into his nose. His hand frantically jerked his cock. His mind flooded with obscene, stomach churning, cock hardening images--smooth cunt-skin, salty cock-sperm, fresh girl-piss, blonde pony tails, filthy man-cunts, strawberry lip gloss, shaved balls, teenage "boy-beaters", red-assed spankings, swinging lube bottles, cock-wielding fuck dolls, tit crushing tube tops, and Cindy's gorgeous sex-racked face. His rabid, perverted cock wanted her to humiliate him to the point of insanity, and then he wanted her to get off on him. More than anything he wanted to see her cum again.

"Ohh, please Cindy. Please. Fuck me like a bitch. Punish me." He spoke into the thong as if begging the imitation to give him the real thing. His tongue licked the material and his feet kicked rapidly in front of him as his thighs shuddered uncontrollably in orgasm. His thick white cream exploded all over his disheveled shirt and pants. The digital camera she had given him dropped from the shaking bed to the floor, and for a brief instant he wondered if he'd broken it. He sat disgusted with himself for a moment. The only shred of sanity he had left abandoned him when his shoe lifted into the air and crunched the camera against the carpet.

When would she be here?

When?

- - - -

EPILOGUE

"Hey, what about her?" Jeff nudged his friend Kevin just as Chemistry class was finishing up for the day.

"So? What about her, bro?"

"You know!"

"Oh. I don't know dude, she seems kinda strange," said Kevin.

"Come on! She's hot, Kev. Plus I've been watching her for a few days. She doesn't look like she knows anybody. She's probably fuckin' clueless."

The two friends slinked out of their chairs and discretely edged around the large lecture hall to get a closer look. The blonde was still studying the chalkboard, apparently trying to make sense of the pointless formulas the professor had jotted down. Jeff noticed another guy, a lanky type with pale skin, thin glasses, and short hair, sitting a couple seats down from her. Jeff chuckled to himself as he watched the nerdy boy trying to discretely steal glances at the blonde as well. Jeff had him pegged as one of those lame, shy guys who would never have the balls to actually go after a girl like that.

Jeff motioned for Kevin to wait for him outside as he snuck closer and sat a few seats behind her, wanting to case her out for a little while longer.

Her curly pony tail smacked her shoulder as she whipped her head to the side and looked at the geek. She hesitated a moment, but then blurted out, "Hi." Jeff could see him trying to hide his disbelieving reaction. This guy was such a pussy. "Do you know what any of that stuff means?" she continued.

"Yeah, kinda." What a moron.

"Really?" She stood up and grabbed her book bag, edging by the row of seats and walking toward him. Her tight jeans hugged her slender hips, and her stretchy salmon colored shirt accentuated her firm torso, with three buttons tight across the top of her breasts. God, she was cute.

"Could you help me, maybe?" she asked the wiry guy, who had that deer in the headlights look. "I don't really know anyone else here."

There was no way this freak deserved this hot girl, Jeff thought. What was she doing bothering with this guy? Was she fuckin' stupid?

"Yeah, uhm. Okay," he shifted in his chair, with a strange kind of fight or flight response. He moved his book bag out of the seat next to him so she could sit down. He was obviously trying to be cool. He was failing miserably.

"Yay! Really? That's really nice of you."

Jeff caught sight of the blonde's incredible smile. It even made his cock stir in his pants, and he'd fucked a lot of cute girls back in high school.

She brazenly craned her neck and gave the guy a peck on the cheek. The nerd flinched instinctively away, but she didn't even seem to notice. He tried to hide his blushing face.

Jesus, that was it!

"God, what a loser," Jeff spat inadvertently. He jumped up from his chair, making more noise than he intended. They both looked back at him, and he pretended to be getting his things in order to leave. The blonde smiled at him.

"Hello. Did you say something?" she said. He could feel her blue eyes getting a good look at his rugged frat boy looks, but she looked at him suspiciously through her smile. She couldn't have heard what he said, could she? No matter, he thought. She would be his, anyway.

Jeff shook his head and smiled as politely as he could to both of them. He then quickly left the room so that he could hatch a plan. This pussy-ass punk was going down, he thought.

Few girls back in Jeff's high school could resist his good looks and expensive car. He knew the type, and there was no way this cutie would be able to resist him either. Besides, he wasn't about to let this pathetic freak have her. It was a matter of pride. He was running out of time to make a choice anyway, and she seemed the perfect mark for the task the exclusive fraternity had assigned him.

"Are you sure about her, man," Kevin said after Jeff had met back up with him in the hallway. "Didn't she just transfer in a month or two ago?"

"Duh! That's the point, dude! She won't know shit! Seriously, what's the matter with her? Did you see her smile at me?"

"Yeah, I saw it. I don't know; it's just a feeling. You only get one chance to pick the girl, Jeff. They were really clear about that at the pledge meeting."

"Oh don't be such a pussy. What's her name anyway? Samantha, Cynthi--"

"I think it's Cindy, dude," said Kevin.

Jeff smirked. "Whatever."

-- THE END --

This story is dedicated to my special friend, G_G.

Thanks to all who have read and emailed me about "Cindy". This story and its heroine were born from my very soul. Future suggestions are welcomed.