Submitting To Professor Kent Ch. 02

I sat in class and felt Professor Kent's eyes weighing on me like a pair of boulders pressing on my shoulders. If I could get away with it without drawing more attention to myself, I'd have ducked under my desk for the remainder of the class until he had left. The tension I felt alone was nearly unbearable. What made it worse were the hundred other students piled in their seats to the left, right, and before me, completely oblivious to the looks he gave me in passing or the torturous feeling I had inside me.

"Now, what this leaves us with is a dichotomy of thought," Professor Kent lectured the classroom as he walked in slow and methodical circles at the front of the class, as was his way. "What is truth? Is the truth what we believe to be so? Or is the truth something else? Is there an arbitrary truth?"

I sat in my chair with my laptop open in front of me like dozens of other college kids had. My left foot was tucked into my crotch as I found myself leaning forward and grinding the crotch of my pants into the heel of my foot over and over again as I listened and dazed off simultaneously. It had been a week since I last saw him. A week since his fingers had ravaged my sex in his office.

Leaning forward, I bit my lower lip as my clitoris brushed the edge of my heel, and I felt my stomach drop. The ninety-minute class had gone on for too long for me to keep control of my needs. The first fifteen minutes of the class I was too embarrassed and ashamed to even look Professor Kent in the eyes. I felt naked, sitting before him. Every time he looked my way, I knew that he had seen me. The real me. The me with an inhaler. The me who orgasmed from a simple kiss (but was it just a kiss?). The me with soaking wet panties. In those first minutes, there was a brief moment when I considered just dropping out of college--it was all too much.

Then something changed. The more I looked at his form-fitting shirt that hugged his massive arms and watched as he pointed at the screen as he taught, I felt a stir inside me. Chewing the corner of my lip, I found myself unable to look away from his wide back or his hard chest as he moved. The lesson, mine as well, had been on mute.

Rocking imperceptibly faster on my own heel, I felt the pressure building. I knew this was wrong. The thought of Professor Kent or one of the college students to my left or right noticing me masturbating on my own heel in the middle of class like some little slut was enough to make me want to die, but I couldn't stop. It felt too good.

God, it feels almost as good as when he abused my vagina with his rough... I thought.

I didn't know he was like this. How rough he was with me. How commanding... No one had ever talked to me the way he had. No one had ever touched me the way he did.

But he doesn't know the truth, Beth. He still doesn't know the real you. Will he still want you when he knows...

The orgasm was so close. It was within reach. I rocked a small circle in my seat as I neared the edge. I mash my lips together to keep from moaning out loud and close my eyes for the briefest of moments. When I opened them, he was gone.

Where is he? Where's the Professor?

I realized too late that the older man was walking a circle around the room. He was directly behind me.

"Stephanie," Professor Kent's gravel voice boomed behind me. "Why don't you read the paragraph at the bottom of the page."

Stephanie, the girl who sat immediately to my right, cleared her throat and started to read as the orgasm rocked a tremor through my body. I leaned forward, feeling Professor Kent's body heat and presence looming behind me, looking down on me. My hair fell forward, draping my face, and I allowed it to hide my bright red cheeks and pained face as the orgasm wouldn't stop.

Between Stephanie's words as she read, I heard a muted sound of fabric rubbing together. It was the sound of me squirting in my jeans.

Oh god!

Parting my lips, my face hund inches off my open curriculum book as I screamed in silence, and a drop of drool ran over my lips and fell to my page.

"Good," Professor Kent said when Stephanie had finished, and I started to breathe again.

Looking up from my book, I felt a swell of heat flood my face as I saw Stephanie to my side, shooting suspicious glances my way. She looked at me like I was a freak.

Because you are! You are a horny slut who can't control herself even in the middle of class!

The rest of the students in the classroom seemed none the wiser, but Stephanie's stare persisted. One person looking at me was one too many. I couldn't take it. Squirming and turning away from the girl, I tried to free myself of her eyes grasp but only felt the burn of her stare on my back. It didn't help that the squirt of juices that had left my vagina was dampening the clothes that covered my sex.

Hyperventilating in silence, I tried to paw through my book bag but I couldn't find my inhaler. In a sudden outburst of panic, I snatched my bag and bolted for the door. Like rifles aiming at me, I could feel all the eyes turn on me as I shoved through the door, including his. My backpack squeezed into my chest like a life preserver as I floated down the hall in a lost haze; I ran without thought or direction but just away from my life.

I was pathetic. This restrained, repressed mess of a teenage girl who couldn't stand to be in public without panicking and yet, was a filth of repressed horniness that leaked from me like an overshaken soda can. And no one shook me up like he did.

Professor Kent. The looming shadow cast over me was terrifying and intoxicatingly arousing at the same time. How did he know I was like this? How did he find me out of all of his students? It was like he could smell the whore inside me oozing from my skin.

It didn't matter anymore. I wasn't going to return to his class. I couldn't face the students ever again, that was for sure. And I would email the Professor, respectfully, and... tell him that... I would thank him for all he had done, but... I'd let him know that I was leaving the college and pursuing an online college. Yes. Online college. The knots pulled so tight in my belly that they ached and seemed to slowly loosen at the simple proposal of the idea. It seemed so perfect. I didn't need to face my fears. I could just continue to hide from them.

I ran about a hundred yards, zig-zagging through the halls before I reached the exit doors that led to the bus stop. Collapsing to my knees on the concrete outside, I gasped at the cool fall air that seemed to open my airways without my inhaler's help. It bridged the gap long enough for me to empty my book bag on the curb and find my inhaler. Two long puffs of the white plastic device and I collapsed in a tense moment of relaxation into a slump. No one really looked at the weird girl sitting on the pavement with all the students either lost in their conversations or walking with their headphones on. I still folded into a ball to hide the dampness I felt between my tender thighs as I slowly gathered the pieces of my backpack.

It was when I grabbed my cell phone that I felt it vibrate. The unknown number that had texted me was waiting for a reply.

Unknown Number

'1800 Hemmingway Blvd. 60 minutes.'

It was him. I knew it was him. Every knot that had loosened in my belly had gone taut again. I had urges to run away and run into traffic at the same time to avoid what came, and yet both those parts of me weren't as large as the one that wanted more. More of what I had before I ran from my classroom. More of what Professor Kent had done to me before another student interrupted.

I needed to be punished.

Chapter Two

I got on the bus five minutes later, thankful that the bus pulled away before any of my classmates I had just fled could get on as classes were ending for the afternoon. It took forty minutes, and two bus transfers to get close to what I assumed was Professor Kent's address. My belly felt as though it was filled with a fish bubbler the entire way. I wished I could put on a mask for protection from his gaze. Even make-up. Perhaps my roommates could teach me how to put on makeup someday.

Oh, what does it matter? There won't be another time. I'm just going to tell him I'm taking online courses, and that's it.

After nearly a twenty-minute walk, clutching my arms to my chest against the cool fall breeze, I arrived at the address with only minutes to spare. The house was modern and two stories. The front lawn was trimmed well and sprinkled with red and yellow leaves in the process of dying. Windows that seemed to spy on her at every angle almost looked like mirrors from where she stood at the front door. It wasn't long after five in the afternoon, but still, it was getting dark already. There was something scary about being there. Professor Kent's house was at the roundabout dead end of a road on a sizeable plot of land. The colors of fall surrounded her, and looking back down the road, she couldn't even see the driveway of the next house.

Should I have told someone I was coming here? My roommates? I doubt they would care...

I pulled out my phone to send a text anyway, but before I could type a message, the door opened exactly sixty minutes from when he had sent the text. To my unnerving relief, Professor Kent stood in the doorway. His professional clothes were gone and in place of it, he wore a black t-shirt that hugged the bulges of muscles on his chest and neck. He looked me up and down for a moment.

"Come in," he said, leaving the door open as he disappeared inside the house.

Chewing on my thumbnail, I nearly passed out from the wave of dizzying euphoria that washed over me before I finally put away my phone and took the plunge. Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me.

The open-style kitchen, dining area, and living room were one large L-shaped interconnected room with vaulted ceilings and the walls were an inviting light gray. The canvasses decorating the walls were of Orcas, grizzly bears, and lions that were done in such a way that I questioned if my Professor might've been the one who took the photographs. The many pictures of international travel populating his shelves beside his couches and large-screen TV confirmed that belief.

"Can I get you something to drink?" his voice echoed from the dark wood floors to the walls.

"No, thank you," I squeaked. My voice didn't echo because the Professor's footsteps from down the hall covered it.

"Very well. In here," he said. I followed his voice around the corner and into his bedroom.

The walls were painted a dark gray in there, which looked light compared to the black comforter and pillows that covered his bed. The wall of windows overlooking the woods at the back of his property gave his bedroom a strange dichotomy of light and dark that unsettled me. Professor Kent closed the door. His footsteps thudded as he walked in front of me. Gently and graciously, he removed my book bag from my shoulders, brought it to a chair in the corner of the room, and set it down.

"Stand here," he ordered and pointed to two black footprints adhered to the hardwood floor before the baseboard of his bed.

I promptly complied and found myself staring at the enormous California king bed in front of me. I felt small, like I stood before a train that was beginning to move in my direction.

"Put your hands here," Professor Kent pointed to the baseboard. I did and found myself slightly bent over and leaned forward. Even in my loose-fitted jeans and modest black top I felt exposed. The part of my panties that was still damp shifted over my sex, reminding me of the fool I was.

My textbook suddenly smacked down on the mattress in front of me.

"You forgot this," he said.

I looked down, tucking my chin and allowing my blond hair to hide my face.

"What happened today? You didn't have a presentation. I didn't even call on you, did I?" he said, crossing his arms in front of the bright windows that silhouetted him.

"No..." I whispered, fighting the urge to cry under the scrutiny.

"Then why did run out of my classroom before it was over?" his deep voice growled as he walked behind me so close that I could feel his body heat radiating on me.

"I... I don't know..." I mumbled.

My response was answered with a swift and rough smack on my ass.

"Ahh!" the sharp pain and unexpected assault made me cry out, but the way the sound ended immediately, I had a feeling that if there was someone outside this room or outside the window, they would have heard nothing.

"Lying to me is the gravest of mistakes, slut," Professor's stern voice warned.

"Y...yes, yes... I'm sorry," I stuttered and felt a tremor in my hands as they squeezed the baseboard.

"You're sorry? Just you're sorry?" he was upset now. The next smack on my right ass cheek left a lingering sting that numbed the cheek for a long moment.

"Ah ah!" I screamed and then quickly shook the blond hair out of my face. "I'm sorry, sir! Sir! I'm so sorry, sir!"

Professor Kent paced behind for a long minute in silence. His angered breaths were the only thing taunting me from behind. I released a shaken breath as the bite of pain on my butt disappeared, and I noticed my damp panties again and wondered if they were wetter now.

"Green, yellow, red...." Professor Kent said as if it was a reminder that I could leave with the utterance of a word. "The door is right there." He gave me a moment and went over to a table to take a sip of whiskey.

When he returned, my breathing had slowed enough that I could hide my scattered breaths. His rough hands reached around my waist, unbuttoning, unzipping, and jerking my jeans down to my ankle with a violent motion. The Professor's face lingered inches from the panties over my ass before he stood back up again. Without thought, my knees folded in on each other, and my elbows touched my ribs as I tried to hide my shameful nudity.

"I'll repeat myself," Professor Kent said as if it was a curse. His voice was terrifying. "Why did run out of my classroom?"

"Because... sir," I mumbled meekly, then tried to speak up. "Because I masturbated and orgasmed, sir."

His warm, firm hand cupped my ripe ass cheek with a surprising gentleness, but the touch alone was enough to make me jump. He squeezed my ass cheek over my panties which made me unconsciously chew on the corner of my lip. I felt his fingers slide down between my legs and cup around over my vagina. My lips parted as I started to pant. His middle fingers slid over the face of my panties all the way to my front and then rubbed back down.

"Oom," I squeaked as I felt my heart skip a beat. He rubbed his hand over my damp panties several more times and placed me in a trance before he suddenly stopped. My eyes opened in surprise and disappointment as if I had to remember where I was.

"Why did you masturbate in my classroom?" he asked.

"I... I... I don't... Ah!" I yelped as the first of three hard smacks on my right ass cheek landed. Each strike is harder than the last. The only protection I had was a thin sheet of panties. My windpipe clenched down on itself as it was strangling me. Punishing myself.

"What did you say?" he yelled into the back of my head.

"I... I... did it because I... I was horny, sir," I said, almost dancing in place, hopping from one foot to the other as the pain settled in. There was a wheezing to my shallow breaths now.

"Why were you horny?" he asked.

My instinct to lie was quickly gone at the thought of another slap. "I was horny from y--you, sir. I wanted you, sir," I blurted out, nearly hyperventilating at this point. I expected another spanking but was surprised to feel nothing, then I realized the room was moving. Walls flipped, the floor lifted to the ceiling, and my vision darkened. The last thing I saw before passing out was Professor Kent's piercing eyes as I spun and collapsed into his arms.

Waking was a slow process. My memories were a blur. The room seemed foreign, and yet I somehow felt comfortable in it. I lay on my back in a large bed, my hands clasped together, and my--I'm naked!

Panic struck me at the same time all my memories came rushing back to me. I had a panic attack during Professor Kent's discipline. I passed out.

Oh my god! That's so embarrassing.

I looked around the room for my clothes so I could throw them on and flee this house, this school, this state before I had to face the Professor again. I was a fool! I should have never even gone to college.

"You're a masochist," a dark, gravelly voice rumbled. It startled me and made my legs tuck back under the covers of the bed like a little girl hiding from the monster under the bed. "I'm not talking about sexual masochists."

Professor Kent sat in the corner of the room, staring at me. Had he been there watching over me the whole time I was unconscious?

There was no phone in his hand or TV in the room to watch. The only thing he had to look at was my naked body. He stood and slowly walked around the foot of the bed. The shadows of the room were seemingly able to follow his face.

"You hate being around people, and yet you attend university in a massive school at an age when you could do it online," his voice slowly deepened and grew harsher the closer he came to me. "You cringe at the thought of attention, and yet you display yourself like a harlot. You'd die of embarrassment if anyone found out how much of a sexual fiend you are, and yet you masturbate in the middle of class." He stopped beside the bed to my right side, his broad shoulders looming over me as I clasped the covers in my trembling hand just high enough to cover my cleavage. "You are your worst enemy."

I didn't realize how dry my throat was until I tried to find my words, but there was nothing to be said. He was right. It was all true. I should have left college. I should have ran from society. I shouldn't have brought Professor Kent into my messed up world just to waste his time on stupid me!

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't apologize to me," his voice boomed, making me jump. "You're punishing yourself. You're wounding yourself. You're willing yourself to fail. Why?"

I lowered my head and briefly considered hiding my face under the covers as if I were younger and could end my problems that way. Lost in my spiraling thoughts of self-degredation, I didn't notice the Professor climbing into bed until I felt the bed shake. His pants stretched as he mounted my tiny thighs. Never had I felt so small and fragile as I had in that moment.

Taking my wrists above my head, he plastered them outstretched against the plush pillows. The position forced my chest to protrude and the covers to slide off my bare breasts. The cool air hardened my aching nipples. I felt a change happen as his left-handed thumb looped over both my wrists like the tiny eighteen-year-old girl I was. I tugged one of my arms away just to test his grip, but I couldn't even budge an inch.

When I turned my face away from his, the Professor's right palm pressed on the side of my face, forcing my gaze to look up at him. I felt calloused grooves on his palm along my cheek. The professor's hand was massive compared to me. He could crush my skull if he wanted, but instead, his firm hand brushed down my cheek and lips softly, curling my lower lip down as it passed by.

What is he going to do? Is he... is he going to fuck me? Am I ready to lose my virginity? Did it even matter if I wasn't?

"Stop hiding from the truth," he said. "Stop hiding from the pain. Nothing changes when we ignore a thing."

His right hand slid down to my chest and circled my bare breasts in a gentle sort of way. His fingers took the time to circle and activate each of my nipples. They twisted and pulled on them just to the point of unbearableness before switching to another. My eyes danced from wide to squint as I chewed on my lips nervously. It was intoxicating and painful to be forced to stare back at the man as he stared down at me. His square jaw fixed in a bemused scowl at my delightful agony.