Meet the College President

Hey, I've been away for quite a while, but never far from your hearts. Dashed this one off in one sitting. It was inspired by fan mail and your comments, so thank you very much for all the support. This one is from a first person submissive female perspective. Hope you enjoy. Cheers.

Sam

*****

My name is Valerie Pinkwater, and this fall I joined the English department of a prestigious Midwest college, one famous for turning out many respected authors and critics.

My first two interviews went very well, and after the third, they told me that I would just have to meet with the college president, James P. Dallis, who personally approved all faculty hires. I figured the job was already mine and this would be a formality and an exchange of pleasantries. Still, I wanted to look my best. I made an appointment the day before with a stylist and had my hair color done (honey blonde) and had it blown out so that my hair was shiny and smooth. I considered what to wear. Should I just go for a boring, no-nonsense pantsuit and flats? No. I opted for black suede 3" heels, (not too tall, but enough to give my 5'2" height a boost), a grey pencil skirt, and, for a bit of understated flash, a white satin blouse. Men always like shiny blouses, and they show off my best assets, my big boobs. Did I say big? I meant huge. We're talking 38H. I have to get my bras custom made. They bring me a lot of attention, some of it wanted, some not. But I've accepted the fact that they're my power and my Achilles' heel. It's hard to be taken seriously sometimes as an academic, but it's also nice that I can attract guys from across the street. I had chosen to err on the side of sexy.

I thought I looked pretty damned good as I sat in the outer office waiting to be ushered in. I'd been waiting close to 20 minutes past the appointed time, and I was perspiring a bit. I patted my forehead with a tissue and then discreetly undid the top two buttons on my blouse to dab my cleavage with a tissue. Just at that moment, the door to his office flew open and out strode James Dallis, a handsome, very tall man in a dark blue suit, with thick salt-and-pepper hair. I was so startled I jumped to my feet quickly, causing my chest to jostle and shake, something I instantly regretted. He greeted me with a reserved smile and shook my hand firmly, as he looked me up and down.

President Dallis led me into his richly appointed office. I was hoping he would turn his back for just a moment, so I could re-close my buttons, but his eyes never left me, so I had to abandon that idea. He told me to take a seat in the chair across from the huge antique desk in the center, and then proceeded to ask me some perfunctory questions about my trip to town and getting to know the campus and the other members of the English department. He said was impressed with my resume and qualifications, and all he needed to know now was if I would be a good fit for the school. I said I thought so. He narrowed his eyes and replied that he had assumed the same from reading my file, but now, seeing me "in the flesh" had raised some doubts in his mind. This made me nervous.

He then stared me right in the eye and said, "Did you really think you could just waltz into my office swinging those big melons around and I'd turn to putty and give you the job?"

I was so shocked by his words my mouth actually fell open. I stammered trying to reply but no words came. All I could manage was "Nnnnn."

"You should know this about me, Miss Pinkwater. I'm not someone to be toyed with. Do you understand that?"

"Y-y-yes, sir."

"Now I'm going to have to reevaluate you. I have to be sure that we can really work togeth..."

"Honestly, sir, I wasn't trying to..."

"Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking," he said sternly.

I was cowering a bit at this point.

"Sit up straight!" he barked.

My back stiffened immediately, which, to my chagrin, had the effect of jutting out my chest. To make matters worse, my nipples began to poke through the shimmering fabric.

"I can't say I fault your logic," considering your prodigious natural gifts." he said, his eyes focusing below my neck. "And yes, you did capture my attention. But you may regret it."

He moved closer, towering directly over me.

"You like showing them off? Good. Go ahead and do it. Unbutton your blouse."

I looked up into his eyes, with butterflies in my stomach. I'd had many fantasies about being forced to strip by a man, or a group of men, but it happening in reality was a very different feeling - an odd mix of terror and taboo thrills.

I complied, allowing my shirt to hang open, revealing glimpses of the black lace bra underneath.

He reached forward with both hands, and pulled the shirt back behind my shoulders forcefully. He then quickly slipped a hand into one bra cup, and then the other, lifting my heavy breasts up and out - letting them rest there on full display supported from below. I gasped involuntarily.

"Hmm," he said, his fingers slowly tracing the circumference of my pale areolas, which are the size of tea saucers, and then gently teasing my ridiculously thick, bright pink nipples. The skin tightened and they instantly grew hard. A slight smirk curled the corners of his mouth.

My head turned away and I dropped my eyes to the floor, the shame coursing through me like an electric charge.

"Miss Pinkwater - you have the tits of a whore."

He took my chin in his hand and lifted my eyes to his.

"Arch your back. Offer those nipples straight out to me."

I did as he asked, hoping this was pleasing him.

"Now shake them for me, you dirty little cockteaser."

I shimmied my shoulders and my breasts began to swing back and forth rhythmically.

He stepped behind my chair, removed my shirt and bra and grabbed my breasts with his huge hands - squeezing them hard, slapping them, pulling them roughly, mashing them together, and then bouncing them in his palms. I squealed and sighed alternately, biting my lip to stop myself from making more noise. When he stopped several minutes later, my girls were tingling, red and swollen.

As he stepped back in front of me, he unzipped his fly, pulling out one of the biggest and most beautiful male organs I'd ever seen.

"What do you have to say?"

"You have a very nice penis, sir."

"That is not a penis. It's a cock. And your job is serving it."

I wrapped my hand around his tool and began stroking, watching it growing longer and more rigid. It was beautiful, with a large bulbous head.

After a minute or two, he grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up out of the chair.

"Get down on your knees and worship my cock with your mouth."

I immediately dropped to the carpet and began licking and sucking him off as sweetly and erotically as I knew how.

"You enjoy being treated like a filthy little whore, don't you?"

I looked up at him, my mouth full. I could only nod yes and transmit my blissfully humiliated response through watering eyes. He began pumping it deeper and faster in steady strokes. I gagged and choked several times. He'd pause for a second, letting me recover then start up again. When he suddenly stopped and stepped back, I was panting.

Pulling me up by my elbow, he unzipped my skirt, threw it aside and pulled my panties down. I stepped out of them, now clad in only my heels. He roughly bent me over his desk and slid his big cock into my pussy, which was practically dripping by now. He pulled it out, banged that big thick head against my clit until I was starting to shake from pleasure, and then plowed it back into me. I was his completely.

He pulled my arms back as he started to jackhammer away, making my big "whore tits" bounce around wildly. He gave my poor little pussy the longest and hardest pounding it had ever received. It began to overwhelm me, and I felt wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure as I convulsed.

He began grunting, about to come. At the last second, he flipped me over on my back and with a primal growl, shot his load on my belly, my chest and splattering my chin.

He then took his hand and spread the pearly white liquid over my stomach, all over my breasts, and all over my face. This was my final, delicious act of submission, being "painted" with his semen. I took his fingers and placed them in my mouth, sucking them clean.

I had never experienced anything like this before. I felt like I'd been wrung out like a towel both emotionally and physically. My forced fantasies had just been fulfilled beyond my wildest imagination, by a man more than twice my age - and during a job interview. He hadn't even removed his suit!

James P. Dallis straightened his tie, smoothed his hair and zipped his fly.

He stepped into his private bathroom for a second and returned holding a towel. He placed it beside her.

"Miss Pinkwater, I think you might fit nicely into my program here. I'd like to offer you a permanent position, so long as you understand the terms. I expect weekly progress reports from you - in person. Would that be to your liking?"

"Yes, sir. It would be my pleasure, sir. And thank you."

"You must come by for dinner with Mrs. Dallis sometime soon. She likes meeting all the new faculty members."