tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Bad Professor Ch. 01

The Bad Professor Ch. 01


Part 1: Sandy

Sandy is the perfect student. She's rich, blonde, tall and beautiful. And stupid.

So stupid that, not only has she had to cheat on the last four assignments she's done for me, she hasn't even begun to disguise her dishonesty. She's copied whole sections from the most obvious internet sources, and she's left them in a different font. I wonder if actually she's so arrogant, so sure of her own untouchability, that she doesn't care if she's found out. Daddy's always bailed her out in the past, why should it be any different this time?

This time, I have plans for the cheating eighteen year old.

She stands in my office, a faintly coquettish look of insolence on her face. So far, she won't admit she's done anything wrong.

"Fine, Sandy, if that's how you want to play it, I'll phone Professor Kilbride." I make an obvious play of picking up the phone.

She looks a little confused. "You won't tell the Dean?"

"No. The governors have asked Professor Kilbride to deal with all plagiarism issues."

"Oh." She looks devastated. So I guess that means Daddy has the Dean in his pocket. It can't be that Sandy's blowing the Dean, his interests are in completely opposite direction. Which leaves the field conveniently open for me.

"Yes. You're a nasty cheating little slut, Sandy."

She blushes bright red. "You can't say..."

"I can say what I like, Sandy, and I can do what I like. Because at any time I can pick up the phone to Professor Kilbride and you're right out of here. And I don't imagine Daddy would be too impressed by that. So what are you?"

She blushes again. "I'm a cheat," she says in a small voice.

"That wasn't what I said."

"I'm a nasty little cheat." I find her childish evasion techniques quite delightful.

"You're a nasty cheating little slut."

One tiny little tear runs down from the corner of Sandy's eye. "I'm a nasty cheating little slut," she whimpers sadly.

"And what happens now, Sandy?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know." There are more tears now, silent like the first.

"You have to show me how grateful you are, don't you?"

She sniffs. "Yes."

I scribble on a piece of paper and hand it to her. "Meet me here at seven."


I am the wicked professor. I will lie and cheat and connive just so I can take advantage of my students. Young or old, good or bad, if I'm attracted to you then, make no mistake, I will find a way of having you.


Sandy stands in front of me in my apartment. She is not crying any more, but her face is puffy and red from what I imagine were floods of tears. By now I figure she has steeled herself to what must happen.

I am sitting very comfortably, thank you, in my leather easy chair, and I have a glass of fine malt whisky in my hand. I find the alcohol takes the edge of my over-heightened state of excitement, making me calmer, and making the experience longer and ultimately more satisfying.

I take a sip of whisky. "Show me your tits, slut." There are times when I can almost be gentle, but there is something about Sandy that, frankly, makes me want to brutalise her.

She stands there for a moment, but I suspect that all the internal anguish and dilemma was over before she got to my front door. The moment she rang my door bell, she accepted whatever came her way.

Still, that doesn't mean it's going to be easy for her, does it?

With a bright blush of shame and embarrassment Sandy reaches for the hem of her cream turtleneck sweater, and lifts it over her head. I am not surprised to see that Sandy is a girl who likes the sun. Before she began stripping for me I had already taken in the tanned face, the warm sprinkle of freckles around her nose and on her cheeks.

Sandy pauses, as if taking off her sweater is likely to be all I expect from her. I don't have to say anything however, before she reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra. There is then another pause before she slumps her shoulders forward and lets her bra fall to the floor.

It doesn't matter how many times I do this, how many women I degrade; the first sight of bare flesh is always special.

Sandy has full, creamy breasts, with all the perkiness of youth, and large chocolate nipples. As she stands there I can tell that despite the humiliation she is proud of her body.

"Nice tits," I say. She flinches. People don't talk to Sandy like this, not about her tits, not about her clothes, not about anything. "They'd look good with my cum all over them."

She is wondering if that is when it will be over. If all she has to do is offer them to me while I jerk myself off? Or maybe she will have to do it for me, take my cock in her hands and move them up and down my shaft until I shoot off over her chest?

No chance. "Show me your ass, slut."

I enjoy the rollercoaster of emotions that display on Sandy's face. One moment she had adjusted herself to my cum on her tits, now she is being forced to submit to further shame.

Obedient, she turns. "Closer," I say. "I want that to see that pretty little butt of yours nice and close."

She walks towards me, slowly, her bare eighteen year old breasts swaying heavily, and turns. There is a brief, nervous, fumble with her belt and buttons, and then she slides her jeans down over her rounded ass.

I am mildly intrigued to see she is wearing a thong. What was she thinking as she dressed for this? I gotta look good? I gotta look sexy? Mr Chambers is going to fuck me and I want to look hot for him?

"You've dressed nicely for me, slut," I comment. "Good." I'm never exactly nice in these situations, but an important part of the psychology for me is to gradually persuade my sluts that a little bit of thought and an eagerness to please can work out for all of us. "Pull your thong to one side and bend over. I want to see your asshole." Like I say, I'm never exactly nice.

Although Sandy is facing away in my imagination I see her lifting her eyes to the ceiling. This was almost certainly not covered in her mental preparation; there aren't many eighteen year old princesses who have encountered a grown-up interest in the intimacies of anal sex. I would be surprised if up until this moment in her life Sandy has ever even considered the tight little hole that she shits out of as a focus of erotic interest and pleasure. Too bad, life's a steep learning curve sometimes.

"Oh my," I say. "You have the sweetest, cutest, sexiest little asshole. Shall I tell you what your asshole looks like, Sandy?" I am sure that she is horrified anyone is even looking at her musky hole like this, let alone about to describe it back to her. "Crinkled and tight, a nasty muddy brown color which is in beautiful contrast to your white bum, some soft wispy hairs around your anus. Mm. All in all, Sandy, your asshole is as perfect as your big tits."

I sit for a moment, in silent contemplation of Sandy's little back hole. "Okay, turn around, we can come back to your shitter late."

Sandy turns back to face me. Her face is deep crimson. My coarse inspection of her bottom has been every bit as sordid for her as I'd hoped.

Her pussy is every bit as pretty and tempting as the rest of her. Like most of the pampered rich kids these days her pubic hair has been trimmed back to a discrete little bush at the top of her slit. The rest of her mound has been expertly reduced to smooth bare white skin.

But. Sandy's pussy lips are puffy and there is honey seeping. It seems that a sordid inspection of her anus is just what is needed to get this spoiled slut going.

"You really liked showing me your asshole, didn't you Sandy? Turns you on in a big way opening your ass up like that." She nods, not because I demand it but because she knows it is a simple, wonderful, terrible truth. From this moment, I know, sex for Sandy can never be a simple matter of lying on her back with her legs open again.

Normally I am happy to do whatever I want, whatever. But I must take advantage of this sudden turn. The possibilities offered by Sandy's unexpected uncovering as a beautiful submissive slut must not be ignored.

"On the bed," I say. My tone is different now. It is still clear that I expect to be obeyed, totally, but the contempt has gone. We are partners - unequal, but partners - in a new, beautiful game.

Sandy lies on my bed. Her legs are slightly spread and she makes no attempt to hide her body from me, and yet there is still something slightly uncertain and inhibited about her pose.

"For now," I say, "it very simple. We're going to lie next to each other, and I'm going to bring you off with my fingers. Then I'm going to kneel over you and you're going to jerk me off over your face. Later, there will be time for much more adventure. For now, all you have to do to make me happy is to say anything I tell you to say. Understand?"

Sandy nods. I reach down to her sex. She is soaking.

"Tell me how it felt while I looked at your asshole, Sandy."

She nods again. "I...I couldn't believe it was happening. I've never done anything - anything - like that. I never even knew you would want to look at me there. It felt really bad to let you see me there. I hated showing myself to you. It was the worst thing I'd ever done. Really."

My fingers are soft and gentle on Sandy's cunt. She understands she can take her time, that she is pleasuring me by the gentle writhing of her body.

"But then," she continues, "when I knew you were looking right at me, at my..."

"Say it."

"You were looking at my...asshole. And you were saying all these horrible words. And I realised it was perfect. To surrender my most intimate place to you so completely. To have to accept that you could look at me there...you could look at my asshole and say all those things. And I had to accept that at that precise moment the only thing that mattered in the world was for you to be able to do and say whatever you wanted, that even my...anus was just an object for you to enjoy. And then it felt incredible, all of our excitement, our lust, focused on my... shithole. You could do anything to me."

"I can."

"You can do anything to me."

"I can lick your asshole."


"Say it."

"You can lick my asshole."

"I can finger your asshole."

"You can put your finger up my ass."

"I can fuck your ass."

"You can fuck my ass."

"Tell me."

"You can put your cock in my ass. Fuck my tight little ass. Fuck my asshole as hard and as often as you want."

Sandy has been close for some time, and now she is ready.

"I can fuck your ass and then your mouth just how I want."

"Oh God, yes."

"Say it."

"I'll take your cock in my mouth after it's been in my ass. Fuck. I'll taste my ass on your cock. Oh fuck, please. I'll clean the taste of my shithole of your cock..."

Then Sandy cannot talk, she is cumming, her poor little imagination filled with lust at offering her mouth for such filthy services.

When she has stopped shaking, when she has recovered some of her senses, I straddle her gorgeous flushed breasts. Impossible though it may seem, things are about to get even better...

{Author's note: I would love to turn this into a series. Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading}.

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