tagBDSMMy Student

My Student


[Author's note: Thanks to MasterofControl2003 for your help with editing. I am considering turning this into a series, depending on the feedback I receive.]


God, she is such a tease. With my hands clasped tightly behind my back, as ordered, I tried in vain to re-organize my thoughts on the lecture. Unable to grasp what it was I had been trying to explain to my class, I instead asked a question trying to spark a discussion that would let me off the hook.

Her eyes continue to bore into me, penetrating, shooting sparks down to my toes and back up to my hard cock. My student. My Lover. My Mistress. No, not mine. I belonged to Her, body and soul. She owned me.

When I graduated with my teaching degree, returning to my hometown local College to teach sciences sounded like a dream come true. I was newly married and thought I was ready to settle down, start a family, and have a normal life.

No one could have been more surprised than I was on that first day of class, Advanced Chemistry, when she walked in the door to my classroom. I knew her instantly. We hung-out in the same group when I was in school. The funny thing is, I had always thought she was older than me, and here she was in my class, going to be my student.

At the time I had the biggest crush on her, and she knew it, liked to use it to her advantage. She used to go with a couple of the guys in the group, and heard all of the hot, kinky stories. Lucky bastards.

One night I had too much to drink and passed out on the couch in my friends' basement. I half-way woke up when I heard some noises. I woke up to see her on her knees, alternating blow jobs between my two friends. I quickly decided to remain motionless so I could watch the show. I was completely mesmerized watching her head bob up and down. By the look on her face she was enjoying it as much as the guys were.

One of them moaned, "I'm gonna cum," which stopped her actions immediately. She reached up and slapped him across the face, "Like hell you are. You're gonna fuck me, first. Then you're gonna fuck him." She grinned at the other guy, the one she was 'dating' at the time.

That caught my attention, this was years before being gay or bi or emo was cool for people our age. As I thought about it, I was kind of disgusted, but turned on at the same time at the thought of the two guys together with her there directing. Both guys seemed to easily accept what she said and followed her into the bedroom.

I was thoroughly disappointed to miss the main attraction, but quickly pulled out my cock to rub one out listening to them. What happened that night played a major role in my masturbatory fantasies for quite some time afterward.

So what was she doing here, in my classroom?

She seemed to regard me with interest, but I couldn't tell if she recognized me or not. Either way it was history. I was a professional, and now married; I was sure I could conduct myself and this class without incident. Boy, was I mistaken.

That first day went OK, even when she returned to my classroom later in the day for physics, the last class of the day. In fact the first week went pretty much without incident, though I shouldn't have let my guard down.

As a new teacher at the school, I felt the need to prove myself, and my worthiness, to my students. I quickly gained a reputation, especially with my advanced classes, of calling on the students unexpectedly, assigning a heavy load of homework, and conducting grueling exams.

Looking back now I wonder how much of my effort was meant to challenge my students at large, and how much I was simply trying to get a reaction from her. Being a young guy, the students felt comfortable enough with me to express their frustrations with my assignments, or to challenge an exam grade, but nothing seemed to touch her.

She was somehow mysteriously on the line between part of the 'in' group and almost beyond the group as well. They would often look to her for input or assistance. Sometimes she sided with them, and her unfailing logic would win me over as she stared unflinchingly, unapologetically, into my eyes. Other times she would actually take my view of things and would end the discord faster than I, the authority figure, was able to.

Though she would look at me while I lectured, her mind never seemed to be on the topic. That said, she was also always the one I could turn to when none of the other students knew the answer. She never raised her hand in class, yet by the same token always seemed to have the floor on the rare occasion she felt the impulse to join in the discussions.

Most infuriatingly, as a teacher, she NEVER completed her homework, was never bothered by a zero grade. However, each exam, no matter how difficult I tried to make it, she would finish in record time, always with the highest score in the class.

Once I realized she knew what she was doing, and wasn't going to conform to my standards, I pretty much let her have free reign. I decided it wasn't worth a battle as long as she was learning and maintaining her grades.

The physics class in particular was already nearly a self-guided class. The curriculum was designed for students who would be pursuing a science major, and was therefore a small, select group who would often end up in discussions which I allowed the students to direct, to teach and debate each other.

During physics, particularly when the class went off on a tangent, she would sit on the sidelines, reading a novel or jotting in her notebook. She rarely spoke up unless asked, by the class or myself, for her thoughts. Invariably she was up to speed on the discussion, and was able to contribute intelligently.

She knew me, as well. When the students were starting to get rowdy she would often look to me with a smirk on her face, as if to challenge me to control my classroom. If I was conducting a lecture, asking a difficult question, she would put her book down and patiently wait for me to call on her, knowing my questions would be un-answered by her peers. That really irked me sometimes, as I couldn't decide if it was arrogance, or just confidence. Is there a difference, really?

Don't get me wrong, I don't believe I was fixating on her by any means. I enjoyed exchange with all the students. I enjoyed their refreshing point of view and was completely happy with my decision to return home to teach. But I was fascinated by her. She was an intriguing puzzle to be studied, dissected, examined from every angle.

She participated in several extra-curricular activities, including theater and volleyball, and was an editor on the school newspaper. She was well liked by many different groups within the student body. She worked as well, in what I later learned was full-time personal care taker position, not your typical student job.

My wife, Terri, was also a teacher in the school, teaching entry-level math courses. I wanted to ask Terri about this girl, but also felt I needed to keep it a secret given our brief yet undeniable history together. After a few weeks of classes had passed I still wasn't sure if she recognized me or not. That's when the torture began.

At first I thought I was imagining things: the way she would look up at me from beneath her eye lashes, or would bite or lick her lips while I was talking. But as her actions grew more obvious, I knew it wasn't my imagination. She would lick and suck the end of her pen, teasing me with flashes of her tongue. She would squirm in her seat whenever I came within a few feet of her, and catch her breath if I got any closer.

But of course I wasn't going to act on it! They prepare you for things like this in school; student infatuations, idol worship, that sort of thing. It certainly wasn't that she was fishing for a better grade. And I was married. But that didn't stop my mind from conjuring up her amazing curves and her penetrating gaze when I jerked-off in the shower each morning. Or imagining those gorgeous lips wrapped around my hard cock while I was fucking my wife.

But I could never act on it, and the rational part of my brain knew that. Which, I think, is why she decided to act first. She got tired of waiting on me to make a move, no doubt.

I had just returned an exam to my chemistry students and reviewed the answers with them, discussing any troublesome questions, explaining the answers I was looking for. Many students took this time to try to argue out of their given grade, try to change my mind. This particular exam came from the text book publisher, so there was very little wiggle-room in the answers.

As we reviewed the answers she did not speak up, though she seemed upset. I didn't think it was about her grade, as she just seemed anxious for class to be over. Once the bell rang and class was dismissed, I returned to my desk to prepare for the next class. That's when she came to me.

My head was down, so I did not notice her approach until she was standing just behind me. She leaned over my shoulder, placing a hand on my back at the same time, causing me to stiffen at the close contact. This was a public environment after all; physical contact between faculty and students is rare and essentially forbidden.

However, she simply placed her exam in front of me before straightening. She did not withdraw her hand from my back. The exam was flipped open to a page where I had marked one of her answers as incorrect. I turned to face her and was surprised by the expression on her face. I was once again unsure if it was arrogance or confidence, as she looked down her nose at me to speak.

"My calculations for number 29 are correct. Your answer key must be wrong. I have to get to my next class now, but I can go over the answer with you later in physics, if you need."

I was dumbfounded, and merely stared at her retreating figure, repeating her statements in my head. There was no question, no hesitation, she was 100% positive that she knew more than me, more than the publishers even. No one in the class had questioned this answer. What's more, *she* wanted to help *me*.

I quickly pulled out my answer key and saw the answer I had marked was the correct answer listed. I pulled out a piece of scrap paper to complete the calculations myself. My next class was filing in, filling their seats, so I worked quickly. I instructed them to take their seats, still working out the problem. I wouldn't be able to move on until I knew.

Crap. I don't know how she did it, but she was right. I was dumbstruck for a moment, contemplating the situation. My class was growing restless, so I pushed my thoughts aside quickly though I was unable to be rid of them completely.

She remained on my mind throughout the day, and I found myself watching the door as our physics class trickled in. Our eyes met as she walked through the door. She gave a half smile as she approached my table.

"You figured it out," she declared.

"Yes, you were right. Where did you learn this? The chemistry, the physics, all of it - what's your interest?" I had been dying to ask, and could no longer contain myself.

She gave me a deep look, examining me, with a half smile still on her face. "Are you looking for a tutor?" she boldly teased me.

"No, really, how do you know this stuff? That was a fairly advanced problem that you seemed to have no trouble with. If you really have an interest in this, maybe you could help me in class sometime?"

She smiled wider, calmly, "Maybe we can help each other, teach." I didn't even have to wonder what she meant; the intent was clear to both of us. She gave me a wink over her shoulder as she turned to take her seat before I could respond.

That was how it all began. I knew several things in that instant. First, she knew who I was and remembered me from before. Second, all the stories I had heard about all of her kinky interests were true. Third, I was head over heels for her. The last issue was quite troublesome for me.

I was newly married, after all, and I loved my wife. We had a nice, stable relationship. And she was my student. I knew that she was at least 18, making me feel less like a pervert, yet making the situation no more legal in the eyes of the school.

The class was working on a lab project, a carry-over from yesterdays' lesson, so I was able to sit quietly and observe, consumed by my thoughts. Many heads were bent over their stations with some light conversation between lab partners. All in all, I was grateful I could trust this class to stay on-task without my constant coaching.

My eyes wandered over the classroom before meeting her steady gaze. She stared calmly at me, the end of her pen in her voluptuous mouth. I have no idea what she read in my face, but whatever it was prompted her to smile before rising from her seat to approach me.

She brought her paper with her to the front of the class and pointed to it before speaking to me. "I know you remember me, as I remember you, Andy."

I was beyond thinking about right and wrong at this point, and barely even noticed that she addressed me by my first name.

She glanced up at me from beneath her eyelashes before continuing. "I know you've been watching me, wondering just that. You think I didn't know you had a crush on me?" She paused to watch my face, smiling before continuing, "You're married now."

She'd put that out there as another statement, always so sure of herself. I was getting very uncomfortable with this line of talk, and glanced nervously around to make sure none of the other students were listening.

She turned her paper over, keeping up a better appearance than I was able to muster. "You're adorable when you're nervous," she said softly. "You're supposed to be answering my questions here, teach. Why don't you give me a nod or something?"

I was in such a trance that I was barely able to get my body to respond, but I was able to give a weak nod, never breaking eye contact with her. She chuckled at my efforts.

"I won't ask if you're interested in *helping* me, as I have a feeling I know the answer to that," she licked her lips invitingly and all I could do was nod weakly again, watching her tongue glide along her gorgeously plump lips.

"Good. Why don't I stay after class today and we can discuss how I may be of service to you, alright?"

I tried to clear my throat, to clear my head, but I felt as if I was in a dream. She returned to her seat, pulled out a book, and generally avoided eye contact. After a moment or two I could feel her spell lifting and my head clearing.

What was I thinking? Did I just agree to meet a *student* to have an *affair*? I really did need to clear my head. I told my class I was going to make some copies and instructed them to keep at their lab work.

I nearly ran out of the room as I fought for air. This isn't right. I can't do this. Who was this woman? This was not some young girl with puppy-love in her eyes; this was a sensuous, manipulative woman who knew how to get her way.

I can't believe I was even considering meeting her. This was wrong, on many levels, and couldn't happen. I could be fired, divorced, disgraced, barred from teaching, and God knows what else. So many possible consequences I even began to question my sanity.

No, nothing could come of this. I would meet with her today, but only to let her know, gently yet firmly, that nothing was going to happen. There, I had my head straight again, and could therefore safely return to class.

But she was ready for me. Knowing her as I do now, I believe her actions were not for my benefit so much as that she simply knew what she wanted. But at the time I thought she had been sent by the devil herself.

I returned to the room with about 30 minutes left in the class period; it was my last class of the day. I took a seat at my desk, asking the students to see me if they had any questions about the lab in the time we had left. I stared at her, focused, trying to recall my earlier arguments.

Various students approached me in a steady stream, and I answered questions and gave guidance as best as I was able to. She remained in her seat, having either already completed the lab or chosen not to participate. I tried vainly to tear my eyes away from her, but found it impossible to do.

As she sat, she very devilishly went about turning me on in a way I had never before experienced. She would look at me, licking her lips and then stroke her breast, her nipples now straining at the fabric. She would part her legs slightly, shift her position, and then maddeningly close them, offering me the briefest of glimpses. She would rub her hand along her bare thigh, before withdrawing her hand and bringing it to her mouth to lick or suck.

My cock was so hard it was painful. I dared not get up, least my students view my obscene silhouette. Frankly, I was finding it difficult not to pant and drool at that point. I breathed a sigh of relief when the class drew to a close and the students began to leave. I watched, nervous with anticipation, as she remained seated.

Everyone had left the two of us, yet we remained seated, looking into each others' eyes. After an excruciating 30 seconds she broke the silence. "Is your wife expecting you for a ride or anything?"

Oh yeah, I forgot, I'm married. "No, we drive separately."

She gave me a half smile, "Good. Lock the door, turn out the lights, and come here." She hadn't moved a muscle from where she sat, watching me coolly.

I crossed to the door, slightly embarrassed by the tent in my pants but making no attempt to hide it. The door had a window of frosted glass, so once the lights were out no one would be able to detect us inside. It was only mid-afternoon and there was plenty of light coming from the windows.

I quietly turned the lock and turned out the light then walked back toward her, unsure what I should be doing. I had never been picked up by a woman before; I was used to making the moves. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, starting to lose my nerve.

Another moment passed and felt that I should say something. "Look, I-"

"Don't speak," she cut me off with a hard glare.

I was incredulous. I could hardly believe how this day had transpired. What was I still doing standing there? It was almost like watching someone else. Maybe I was having an out-of-body experience? That would certainly help to explain things.

She rose from her chair and stood before me, another small smile playing at the corner of her lips. She was staring me down again and then commanded, "Don't move."

I wasn't sure how I should respond, so I just gave a small nod, which she seemed to approve of. She took a step closer and brought her hand up to my chest. She left it there for a moment before stepping to the side to walk around me, dragging her nails along behind her.

She circled around me before coming back to stand in front of me. She took a half step closer and I could feel the heat from her body, though we were still not touching except for her hand on my chest.

She tortured me by licking those amazing lips again before dragging her hand down the front of my body, pausing at my stomach and causing me to tense. "Don't move..." she reminded me softly.

Her hand continued down, gliding along my belt now, then down my hip to my thigh. She took a deep breath and moved her hand over the front of my pants, barely brushing along my hard cock, causing me to tremble. She let her breath out with a slight, "Mmmm," so quietly I wasn't sure I heard it at all. Then, her hand was back, grasping me along the length of my cock through my pants, squeezing with gentle, firm pressure.

I hadn't been this turned on and wound up since puberty. I struggled to take a deep breath, focusing all of my energy on not cumming, not yet, not until she was ready.

She smiled now, her hand moving down to cup and squeeze my balls, making me moan aloud despite my best efforts to keep quiet.

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byNightGirl359© 10 comments/ 95514 views/ 26 favorites

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