Professor's Pet

I've been dreading this moment since I received my exam back-with a failing grade. This is an upper level graduate class and Professor Harrison isn't the kind of man who gives second chances. He's tough, and domineering, and expects his students to be well-prepared and knowledgeable. I want badly to please him, but I've let both him and myself down. Now he's called me to his office to discuss my grade.

He closes the office door behind him and I take a seat in the chair in front of his desk. He doesn't sit behind his desk like I expect him to, but instead, perches himself in front of me on the edge of it. I'm terrified of what he will say and ashamed to be there in the first place. I fold my hands in my lap and I see him wet his lips with his tongue as he prepares to speak. My eyes dart to the small motion, and even now, even in this horrible moment, I feel the inevitable wave of lust rise up.

Dr. Harrison is a powerfully built man, towering over my small, slight frame. He's also one of the most intelligent people I've ever met. He scares me, but that's part of the thrill.

"Let's get right to it then, shall we?" he says, his voice cold. I nod, too nervous to reply.

"Your grade in this class is in danger due to your performance on the test," he continues, pausing to look at me from over the edge of his glasses. This speech is what I expected, so I just take a deep breath and agree.

"However..." he begins slowly. He reaches down and takes my chin in his fingertips. I feel myself blush profusely at the unexpected contact. My lips fall open as he runs the pad of this thumb over my lower lip. I look up at him from underneath my eyelashes, watching as his eyes follow the path of his finger.

"The situation could rectify itself if you wrapped this pretty mouth around my cock."

Shock washes over me at his words. In fact, part of me refuses to believe this is really happening. Dr. Harrison is known for strict adherence to university policy. He's the last person I would expect to proposition a student. The feeling of his finger against my lips is making it impossible to think clearly. I can't control my reaction to him and I moan quietly. His lips quirk up in a cruel, crooked smile.

"I don't want you to change my grade...I want to earn it," I breathe out. He snaps his hand away from my mouth and I steel myself for what I am about to say next.

"But please let me suck your cock, Sir," I add the honorific at the end to see if he will react the way I've always hoped he would. He stands up abruptly.

"On your knees," he orders. His tone sends a violent tremor down my spine. It is commanding, self-assured, utterly confident, and I drop to the ground immediately as if my very will is controlled by his voice.

"I'll allow it, Kitten, since you asked so nicely," he says softly, that crooked smile back on his lips. I nearly come without him laying a hand on me. The need to taste him, pleasure him, nearly drives me out of my mind.

"Thank you, Sir," I say, sounding desperate even to my own ears.

I run my hands slowly up his legs, savoring the feeling of hard muscles underneath the fabric of his pants. When I reach his belt, my heart feels like it will beat out of my chest, and I look up at him for reassurance. He threads those long fingers into my hair. I open the belt, unbutton his trousers and slowly pull down his fly. My fingers dip into his boxers, gently pulling out his hard cock. It's enormous-well-suited to his stature. I bite my lip in anticipation and try fist my hand around it, my fingers not quite able to wrap around.

I start stroking up along the length of it, pressing my thumb into the wetness at the head. His cock feels impossibly hard as it begins to leak pre-come. I have to taste it. I've dreamt of his cock down my throat even as I sat in class listening to his lectures.

I take him into my mouth, and the silky heaviness of him is delicious. I stroke his dick slowly in and out, using the flat of my tongue to provide extra stimulation. When I roll the tip of my tongue over the head of his cock his fingers grip my hair tightly, painfully, and I moan.

"You like it when I pull your hair, Kitten?" he asks gruffly. I take his entire long length down my tiny throat in response and his hold on my hair tightens involuntarily.

"Bad girl," he purrs, "only I get to decide if you get what you want."

I nod slightly, with his dick still in my mouth. He loops my hair around his fist and uses the leverage to shove his cock further down my throat.

He thrusts over and over again until my eyes are watering and I'm all but choking. But I'm so turned on by this treatment from him that I could shatter at the slightest touch. He's rough, just on the good side of too much, and relentless. Finally, he pulls out. He grabs my arm and pulls me roughly to my feet, turning me in his arms so that my back is pressed against his chest. He leans down and bites my neck so hard I wonder if the skin will break, but in the same instant his fingers find my clit underneath my skirt and my knees buckle at the extreme combination of pleasure, pain, and shock at what we're doing. When he slides his fingers inside of me and curls them up, I gasp at how close I am to coming.

"Please," I beg him, almost beyond words. I'm dizzy with want. The hand that is not inside of me slides down into the front of my shirt and he palms one of my breasts. My head rolls back onto his chest, exposing my neck to him, and he laps at the bite mark he put there. He pinches my nipple hard, sending a shudder through my body. I'm so so close to coming all over his fingers.

"I don't think so," he whispers. He bends me over the top of his desk and sinks into me from behind. I've never had such a huge cock inside of me.

"You're dripping wet for me, you little slut," he tells me, sounding surprised in spite of himself.

"Yes, Sir," I agree. I can feel slick fluid leaking down my inner thighs, and I am absolutely sure I've never been this wet before. He coats his hand in the juices on my legs and uses the same hand to cover my mouth as he begins fucking me. A wave of pleasure spasms through me as I taste and smell myself on his hand. I want to wait for his permission, but I don't know how much longer I can hold off my orgasm. He removes his hand from my mouth and pulls my head back using my hair so that I'm forced to look into his tawny eyes.

"Who do you belong to?" he asks. The explosive orgasm building up threatens to overtake me. I gasp and try to focus on his question.

"Who do you belong to, Kitten?" he asks again more slowly, each word punctuated with his dominance. He never stops fucking me.

"You, Sir," I whisper, out of my mind with need. He smiles crookedly and I come. He has the presence of mind to shove his hand back over my mouth as I scream.