Teacher's Pet

I knock three times at Professor Conrad's office. Nothing. I knock harder.

"Come in," he bellows.

I give myself one last mental pep talk before opening the door. He stares at his computer screen with a furrowed brow.

"Hello, professor!" I say cheerily. "I was hoping I could talk to you about my essay."

He glances up at me and back at the screen. "Yes?"

"Well, I got a zero, and I need at least a seventy to pass the class, so I was wondering if there was any kind of extra credit I could do to bring my grade up."

"You turned your paper in late, Ms. Lohman. That's an automatic zero."

"Yeah, I know." I nervously twist the hem of my shirt. "I screwed up, and I take full responsibility. But I was just wondering if there was some kind of project or paper I could do. I don't expect anything, I just wanted to ask."

"There's nothing I can do. It's department policy."

"Please, I really have to pass this class. I'll do anything."

"Anything?"

He's still scrolling and clicking on his computer. The implication hangs heavy in the air. We both know what he's asking.

I didn't say that I daydreamed about him during lecture. I didn't say that I would have slept with him for nothing. I didn't say I was getting wet just thinking about it.

"Anything," I say.

He takes a bag from underneath his desk and tosses it at me without looking away from the screen. I open it and there's a school girl outfit inside.

I undress slowly but he doesn't seem interested at all. The outfit hugs my body like it was made just for me. Short plaid skirt, white knee socks, white cotton panties, black Mary Janes. I start to button the white shirt over my bra. Professor Conrad loudly clears his throat.

"None of your own clothing, Ms. Lohman. Please follow instructions."

"Yes, professor." I take off my bra and put the shirt back on. I place my palms down on the desk and angle my ass so he can get a good view. "Like this?"

He turns up the music, what his screen tells me is traditional Nepali folk, and circles the desk like a shark. He seems irritated. He lifts my skirt and rubs my ass with both hands in long, round strokes.

"Now, Ms. Lohman." He pulls up the sides of my underwear and lets it snap back. "We need to have a talk."

He traces his finger along the crack of my ass and lightly spanks me with his palm.

"As I told you, I have a zero tolerance for late assignments." He hits with more force. I wince. "It's rude, it's disrespectful, it's unprofessional. I take it as an offense against both me personally and as a teacher. You are wasting my time. Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable."

"Yes, professor."

He spanks me harder and faster. He pulls down my panties and strikes my bare skin.

"And then you come in here, thinking I'm going to bend the rules for you just because you have nice tits and a hot ass. That you're going to get special treatment because you're better than everyone else who managed to turn their work in on time. It's unacceptable, and I'm going to teach you a lesson."

"Yes, professor. Discipline me."

He bends me over the desk and enters me from behind. He pounds my g-spot and I hang onto the edge of the desk. He spanks me in perfect rhythm. Pen caps and binder clips dig into my skin.

"You're a bad girl, fucking your professors. Does your family know what you do for grades? That you're fucking your way through school?" He screws me harder. "What else do you fuck for?"

"I'm a bad girl."

He sits me on the edge on the desk. I wrap my legs around his ass and he enters me again. I lean back on my arms, tilt my head, and we move our hips in tandem.

"You're going to take it, you're going to like it, and you're going to thank me when I'm done." He punctuates with thrusts. "You're going to learn if it's the last thing you do."

He grabs me by the throat with one hand and I gasp to catch my breath. He unbuttons my shirt with the other and sucks my tits while he fucks me.

He takes a wooden ruler off the desk and slaps my vulva. Pleasure spread out from my core in rings.

"Yes," I whimper. "More."

He hits my pussy over and over until I climax. He roughly shoves his hand inside my mouth so no one can hear me scream. He doesn't finish. I wonder if I did something wrong.

Professor Conrad rubs sanitizer on his hands and sits back down at his computer. He turns off the music. I'm suddenly very conscious of how disheveled I am. No underwear, matted hair, shirt wide open.

I feel exhilarated but confused. I worry that I must have displeased or disappointed him in some way.

"Thank you, professor," I say timidly. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could tell me what you were going to change my essay grade to."

"Seventy."

He clicks the mouse.

"Sir?"

"I'm giving you a seventy, Ms. Lohman. You asked for a passing grade. You got a passing grade. You're welcome."

"I just thought, you know, I worked really hard on my extra credit and I deserved..."

"Deserve? You don't even deserve what I'm giving you. What you deserve is nothing at all because your essay was late. You knew the rules and you broke them anyway because you're careless. That grade is charity." He looks me in the eye and frowns. "How do you intend on thanking me for my mercy, Ms. Lohman?"

I smile. I get down on all fours and crawl under the desk. His long, thick cock is out and he's still hard. I play with myself and wrap my tongue around his shaft. He grades papers as I eagerly bob up and down. He turns the music to a low volume and acts like I'm not there at all.

There's a knock on the door. I'm paralyzed.

"Come in," he calls.

Another professor sits just inches away. I hold perfectly still while they have a long conversation about what kind of coffee maker the department should buy for the lounge. I grow bold as the discussion drags on. I silently pleasure him, working his slick shaft with one hand and squeezing his balls with the other. I can feel his cock throb inside my mouth.

As soon as the other professor leaves, Conrad grabs my head with both hands and drives his crotch into my face. He cums in my mouth and I swallow every last bit.

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh. I put my head in his lap and he pets my hair like a dog.

"Good," he says. "That's an eighty."