Office Hours

"I received this in graduate school," he said conversationally. "A paper of mine won a competition at a conference. It didn't take long, though, for me to discover a more...practical use for it."

With a twist, he removed the crystal cylinder from the wooden base. The bottom of the cylinder flared out sharply, and with a sudden sense of dread, she realized what he was going to do with it.

He saw her fearful look of understanding and smiled. He came to the desk and held the sculpture to her face. "Lick it," he commanded, and she proceeded to lick and slobber it as hungrily as she had worked on his cock. After a few seconds he removed it and went back behind her.

She tensed, knowing what was coming as he spread her cheeks. "Relax," he commanded, stroking her gently down the length of her back. She sighed, and tried as she felt the cool wetness of the sculpture press against her asshole. He stroked her gently along her back, along her ass, slowly working it deeper inside her. She moaned slightly as its cool weight filled her, stretching her anus, exposing her in a way she'd rarely felt before. He stopped when he reached the flared base, which nestled neatly between her butt cheeks. Leaving it there, he stepped back to admire his work. She leaned on the desk, breathing heavily and trying to stay relaxed, when he suddenly spanked her again. She gasped and tensed, only to immediately gasp again as her tension increased the feeling of fullness in her ass.

He moved back to her and slid his cock back into her pussy without warning. She tightened against him, feeling his hot cock contrast with the cold sculpture. He groaned greedily, leaning over her on the desk, grabbing her hair yet again. He started working into her, breathing heavily and moaning in her ear about how tight she felt with his toy in her ass. She gasped and cried, unaware of anything but the thick fullness, stretching her and pounding her at the same time. It wasn't long before she started thrusting back against him, aching for more, her quivering ass and pussy begging for him to complete her like she'd never even known she needed before.

His grip on her tightened, pulling her ear closer to his mouth. "I'm going to pound you until I'm ready to cum, but you're going to take my cum in your mouth like a good girl. And good girls swallow all the cum they're given." She moaned and nodded. "When I release you, you're going to kneel back on the floor and take my cock down your throat. Do you understand?"

"Yes Professor," she gasped.

"Good girl," he growled, then leaned back up and started pounding her even harder. His balls slapped against her, banging up against her clit, and his hands dug into her hips. He snarled like an animal, completely out of control, and she cried and heaved underneath him.

Finally, his groans became louder and faster, and he released her hips and stepped away. Remembering her orders, she scrambled to kneel on the floor facing him. He slid off the condom then grabbed her head, wrenching her jaw open with one hand, and pulled her head onto his cock with the other. He thrust all the way into her throat and quivered inside her, ignoring her heaves and gags. Finally he cried out, and she felt his hot cum start to fill her. She gagged more, struggling to swallow, but the muscular clenching of her throat just milked more out of him. It spilled up out of her mouth, dripping down her chin, and she struggled with the hot, salty masculinity of it. Finally, shuddering, he pulled out of her, and she fell to her hands and knees, coughing and sputtering. She struggled not to throw up.

When she had herself back under control, he reached down to help her to her feet. He bent her slowly back over the desk, and she tensed again, expecting more spanking. But he just removed the sculpture from her ass and placed it on the desk. He led her toward the seat she sat in earlier, and she sank into it gratefully.

Without a word, he moved back around the desk to his chair. He sat down, pivoted the monitor back toward him, and started typing.

She sat there, immobile, while he silently worked. Hesitantly, she reached down and started putting her clothes back on. When he didn't protest, she continued, then sat back down.

She jumped as a sudden mechanical clunking broke the silence, but it was just the printer going off. She looked at him expectantly, as he continued to type, still naked in his chair.

When the printer was done, he grabbed the paper and scrawled a signature at the bottom. "Take this note to the registrar. Let her know that you'll be getting a passing grade for this class, but I will be enrolling you in an independent study next semester. Tell her to email me if she has any questions."

She beamed, but then his full statement sunk in. "Independent study?"

He looked up at her sharply. "Yes Miss Taylor. Once a week, here in my office."

She looked crestfallen. "But, I thought—"

He cut her off with a patronizing chuckle. "You thought what, that today would make up for it? No, Miss Taylor, today was for lying to me. You still have an entire semester's worth of failing grades to make up for."

She met his gaze silently, once again surprisingly unable to read the emotion of this man who she had thought was a rather boring, predictable person. After a few breaths, she nodded slowly.

"Will that do, Miss Taylor?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?" he asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

To her surprise, she smiled in return. "Yes, Professor."