This Year's Model

The sensations inside her were incredible. Her spasms vibrated my cock deliciously. At one point, I bottomed out in her and held there, feeling her pussy tremble under the orgasm that wouldn't stop. Then slowly, nearly all the way out, before pounding into her again and again. Constantly varying my thrusts, so she wouldn't be able to anticipate my next move.

All too soon, I could feel my balls tingling. This was feeling like a giant load, and I had too many delightful options where to deposit it. Yank her hair and jerk off on her face, covering the panties in her mouth with cum, and watch her clean that up too? Cover her ass in cream and make her leave it there all day? No, she wanted to be claimed by me? All right, I'll claim her from the inside out.

Three more deep strokes in her cunt, and the dam broke. Must have been nine ropes of cum I shot into her pussy, and that set her off again.

When I softened enough to slide out of her, the mixture of her juices and my jizz came pouring out of her cunt. I made a mental note to demand that she lick my desk clean the next time she let that happen. But right now, she was barely conscious. With her head still on the desk, I rolled her onto her side, then pulled her panties free from her mouth. I leaned down and whispered in her ear, "What are you?"

Breathlessly, she stammered, "I'm your whore, Professor. Your property. Yours." And with that admission, she passed out from cumming for the second time that day, and in her life.

**********

Took her an hour and a half to come to this time. In some ways, I wanted her out of the way; I had work to do. But she looked so delectable there, curled up, naked, and gently breathing. What's a guy to do?

This time, when she came to, she wasn't as disoriented. No fear, no panic in her eyes. Just lust and gratitude.

"Oh, god... Sir," she said dreamily. "The things you do to me... Are you sure it's not illegal for you to make me feel this good?"

"Not for about 4 months now, I'm guessing." I chuckled. "Now, pet. I want you to go home. Rest up, eat something. You will most definitely need your strength for tomorrow."

She got a positively wicked look in her eyes. "What do you have planned for tomorrow, Professor? Or is your naughty little girl not allowed to ask?"

"Normally, no -- you're not permitted to ask. If I want you to know what my plans are, I will tell you. And if I don't tell you, then you'd best be ready for whatever I want to do to you." She shuddered sexily, as if the idea of walking into an unknown situation I might put her into was the most dangerous and erotic thing she'd ever considered.

"However, in this case, I do want you to know. Don't count on this courtesy regularly. Tomorrow, we will begin to explore your sensuality, as opposed to your sexuality. So, again, 10 am sharp, here in my office. I want you to wear your uniform, but bring along what you think is the sexiest outfit you have. Lingerie, slinky dress, expensive underthings, whatever. If you don't think you have something appropriate, go out shopping tonight.

"Remember: I want sensual, not slutty. There'll be plenty of time for your true slutty nature to come out later. It doesn't have to be particularly revealing, though it certainly can be. Just what you would wear if you were going to try your damnedest to get someone to notice you and get aroused immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor. You want me to have a 'come fuck me' outfit on."

"Close. Try a 'You can come over and try to fuck me, if you've got the balls' attitude though. But, just bring it with you; no need for anyone else to see you in that look ... yet."

"Yet, Sir? Is my Professor planning to take his private little whore out and show people how much of a slut she is for you?"

Even though I'd promised I wouldn't make her do anything in public, the idea was obviously stimulating her. I'd have to think about that. "Perhaps someday, pet. But not yet. Now, get dressed and go start thinking about how to please me tomorrow."

"If you only knew how many nights I've done just that, Professor. If you had any idea." She started gathering her clothes, tying off her ruined shirt under those amazing tits.

"Professor? May your slut express her gratitude for today's lesson?" She came to me, and gently kissed my left cheek. "Someday, Sir, I'm looking forward to being allowed to really kiss you, to surrender my mouth to yours. When I've earned it. And I will earn it, Sir. You can count on that."

"I already do, pet. I already do." She carefully opened my office door, looked both ways to see if anyone saw her coming out, and slipped away, closing the door behind her. I turned to my class preparation, but I couldn't concentrate on anything but that girl's body, and her willingness, her need to give it to me. For my pleasure.

"And to think," I muttered to no one in particular, "if Radmila was telling the truth, I could have been doing this for years. Apparently, I'm something of an idiot."

**********

True to recent developments, I saw a shadow outside my office door the next morning at about 9:45. Her excitement and unwillingness to disappoint me was overcoming her ability to read a clock. But I had a couple things I needed to talk about with her Leslie persona first, before I let her assume the persona she was clearly eager to be in, my nameless fucktoy. So I opened my door to spare her another few minutes of pacing and waiting.

"Ah, good morning, Ms Montaigne. Wonderful of you to be here early; we do have a lot to work on. Come in, come in."

"Good morning to you, Mr. H," she said, preceding me into the office as I closed the door behind us. "After our ... talk yesterday, I wonder if the 'Ms Montaigne' was for the benefit of anyone else who might be around, or if we have more seriousness to discuss?" Like I said earlier, she was extremely bright. And if I'm being totally honest, having a smart girl giving herself to me like this was probably more of a turn-on than if it'd been one of our ... lesser lights.

"As a matter of fact, we do have two quick matters which require attention, before I allow you to turn to your other pressing duties. For one, I want you to know that once classes actually begin, I won't be quite so demanding of your time. I do not want your grades to suffer; I want to see you get that full academic scholarship to Princeton or the Sorbonne or wherever your life takes you next." Her smile was both genuine and touching. "During the school year, I will allow you two rain checks a month. If you have a great deal of academic work that you have to do immediately, then use one of those. But be prepared to make it up to me the next time I call on you. Is that clear, Leslie?"

"Mr. H., it's both clear and more than I ... I mean, more than your slut deserves. As kind as Professor is to his whore, I think you are more kind to me. Thank you, sir."

I chuckled. "No, Leslie. Thank you. I don't know who gets more out of this, me for having a fantasy come to life, or you for ... well, for having a fantasy come to life. Just know that however much satisfaction Leslie gets, 'Mr. H.' gets as much, if not more." I took her hand, raised it gently to my lips, and kissed it tenderly. I'd never actually seen anyone swoon before. She was speechless. It was truly moving.

"Okay, the other thing. From our conversations, I gather than you're ... not big on public exhibitionism. Is that fair to say?"

She blushed, adorably. "It's complicated, sir. In the real world, no -- the idea frightens me, because of the circles my family moves in. I mean, what if you took me out and displayed me as your slut? It could wreck my parents. But, fantasizing about it ... that's a real turn on. Just the shamefulness of the idea... It goes me wet as hell."

"So, what I hear you saying is that you want me to talk about abusing you in public. Going for a car ride and making you take your top off. Telling a waiter at some fancy restaurant that you'll blow him instead of a tip. Throwing a Super Bowl party, and having you serve my guests as a naked waitress. Taking you to an elegant lingerie store, and forcing you to give me a fashion show. That sort of scenario." I looked at her; her eyes were glazed over in lust. "You just don't want me to actually do any of those things. That sound about right?"

"Yes, sir. Thinking about those scenes... putting myself in them ... God, I'm so fucking aroused right now. But I'd be way too scared to actually do any of them."

"Okay, Leslie. That's totally fair. I'm glad we talked this through, because I really don t want you getting hurt. But, this unwillingness to be discovered leads me to my second question... Once classes begin, I'll need to keep my office door open, which means we'll need to move our activities elsewhere. And, the school pays well, but not enough for me to keep an apartment someplace or rent hotel rooms regularly. Are you comfortable coming to my home?"

"That depends, sir." She reached out and stroked my jaw line, looking directly and lustfully in my eyes. "Will your neighbors be able to hear me scream when Professor makes his cumslut explode?"

I let my eyes smoulder in return. "Possibly. Is my slutty little girl afraid of that, or turned on by it?"

Her blush returned furiously. In a small voice, she stammered, "Maybe."

"I have a two-car garage, so no one will see your car in the driveway. Here's my spare garage door opener. There's a connecting door into the kitchen. When you come over, you'll change clothes there in the garage into something more ... suitable for a whore to wear when meeting her Professor. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good. On weekends, you should prepare to stay the night, if I demand it of you. On school nights, I'll release you in time to make bed check, or I'll call the school and let the Headmistress know that you'll be late."

"Oh my God, the Headmistress! How will we deal with her, and the shackles she's got you on? Won't she suspect something?"

"Relax, Leslie. Leave that to me. I have everything under control. Including my student assistant whore, don't I?" She moaned. I loved listening to her moan like that.

"Good. Now that that's settled, we can get back to more important matters. I see that you followed your instructions."

"Yes, Sir. Did you want to see me in my sexiest outfit?"

"Of course. Why else would I have had you bring it?"

"Where should I change then?"

"Right here, in front of me." Another moan of debasement and desire. "And, as you put each piece on, I want you to thank me for allowing you to wear it, and describe it, in detail. So get to it."

She started by taking off her tennis shoes and knee high socks. Underneath those, I admit to being a little surprised to see black stockings. "Thank you, Sir, for allowing me to wear these stockings for you. I think the seam running up the back really emphasizes my legs, don't you, Professor?"

"I do, whore. Are they nylons?"

"No, Sir. Pure, soft silk." She took my hands and put them on her calves. "Feel how soft they are, Sir. I can feel everything, every touch." I caressed up her calves, knees, and thighs, causing a long shudder from her. "Yes, slut. They are very smooth to the touch."

She then stepped away, and peeled off her skirt. The stockings were topped about mid-thigh with intricate red lace. "Does Sir like the color against my skin?"

"Very alluring, pet."

"Thank you, Sir. The store had another set that had the red weaving down the length, but I wanted the color to pop as a surprise, once I was stripped down to just those."

"An excellent choice. I'm starting to think that my little whore has put together a fantastic ensemble."

She blushed at the compliment, then slid her panties down her legs and stepped out of them. The white shirt came next, leaving her only in the stockings. She posed for me, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Does Professor approve so far?"

"You are making it very difficult to live up to my promise not to take pictures of you. If you ever decide to, you could have a modeling career."

She snorted. "Thank you, Professor, but they don t make couture in my size; designers only work for women with no boobs."

"Their loss, my gain."

"Um... If Sir wanted pictures of me like this, he could take them. A good little whore would never deny her Professor that."

I breathed slowly, trying to keep my composure. "My dear sweet little slut. For the next year, I won't need pictures; I'll just have you as a live nude model on demand, won't I? You'd drop everything to come to my house and display yourself for me, wouldn't you?"

She bit her lower lip. "Sir, please don't tease me. It's all I can do not to run over to you right now and beg for your cock in every hole. If you keep saying things like that, I don't know how I'll be able to show Professor the rest of the look you wanted me to."

"Self control, cunt. You must learn self control. You will not dictate to me. Is that clear?"

Her eyes flashed in understanding. "Yes, Sir! I will be your good little whore and control myself."

"See that you do. Continue."

Quickly, she pulled out another pair of boyshorts out of her bag, these in a red that matched the lace in her stockings, and slid them up her legs. "Thank you, Sir, for allowing me to wear these panties. I didn't know how long Professor wanted me to keep them on, but for however long that was, I thought the visual effect would please you, Sir."

"They do please me. But why the boyshorts and not something more revealing?"

"I originally planned for a thong, but the clerk convinced me that these showed off the tightness of my ass better. May I turn around and show you?" I nodded, and she turned her back, looking over her shoulder at me. I've never really been an ass man, but good Lord. This was spectacular.

"I must say, the saleslady was quite right. I cannot imagine my slut's ass being displayed any better."

"Thank you, Sir. They also serve a more utilitarian purpose. As ... as wet as I get when I'm around my Professor, I thought more fabric might keep my arousal from showing to anyone else."

"And, of course, you remembered what I made you do with yesterday's..."

She inhaled quickly, her eyes briefly rolling back. But just as quickly, she fought to keep her composure, exhaling slowly. "Yes, Professor. I think I will always remember that."

She then sat on a corner of my desk and lowered her head. "Professor, I know your cunt doesn't deserve it, but may I ask a personal favor, please Sir?"

Curious. "You may ask, but..."

"Thank you for allowing me to ask. The next piece of the ensemble has a story behind it. Would it be okay if Leslie explained it? It would mean a great deal to her."

"Hmmmm... Is this one of the limits that we haven't addressed?" She nodded, without looking at me. "Then yes, I'll allow her."

She looked up into my eyes, gratefully. "Thank you, Mr. H."

"Of course, Leslie. Though you should know that it may be difficult for me to pay attention to your words, with these amazing tits directly in my eye line..." I chuckled.

"Mr. H., yesterday, I tried to tell you how much it means to me that you want to protect me, but I didn't explain why. Do you remember Ellen McCambridge from last year's class?"

I sputtered briefly. "Um, yes. I do."

She looked at me with surprise, but continued. "Ellen was my roommate last year, and she had an assistantship under Headmistress Starovic. And the Headmistress worked Ellen to the bone. Long, hard hours. She'd come back to the room just exhausted and sweaty." It was all I could do to restrain a laugh. "And, the hours really took a toll on her. Her grades suffered, to the point where she was close to losing her admission to Yale. So, I pitched in. Helped her with homework. Edited a couple papers. Perhaps 'edited' might not be the right word on one of them..." As she trailed off, I jumped in. "Maybe 'wrote'?"

She smiled sadly. "Please don't tell anyone. She is so smart, but she just didn't have the time. So, last year, we were watching the Oscars runway show, to see if anyone was wearing her dad's designs. And, I got kinda grumpy, and started bitching about how no one designs couture for women shaped like me."

"Leslie, there are no other women shaped like you. But yes, I heard the contempt in your voice earlier."

"Yes, sir, that's why. So, anyway, right before graduation, Ellen came into the room with a garment bag. I started teasing her about bringing clothes in instead of moving clothes out, and she said, 'This isn't mine. This is a gift for you, a thank you for all your help this year.'

"She gave me the bag and told me that this was an original gown her father had designed especially for me, as his way of thanking me. I didn't know what to say. I mean, yeah -- we have money, so people try to curry favor with us all the time. But this wasn't like anything else that had ever happened to me before. I ... I was really touched. She made me try it on for her, to make sure it fit. But, I haven't worn it since. I was saving it for a special occasion.

"When you asked me to wear something sultry, I knew already what I was going to pick. But... Mr. H., the slutty girl you allow me to be would let you tear anything off of her that you want to, to degrade her in any way for your pleasure. But, the girl who's talking right now..." Her eyes started watering.

"Leslie, leave it in the bag. Truly. Remember what I said about no long-term harm to you? Ruining this dress would be trashing a treasured memory, and I can't imagine anything worse, because there's no way to get that back. You're incredibly sexy just as you are right now, dear."

"No, sir! I mean... no, it's okay. I want you to see it on me. Ellen said that she'd never seen anything like it, never seen me more beautiful, and ..."

"And, Ellen was an ... admirer of feminine beauty, shall we say?"

Leslie was stunned. "How in earth did you know?"

"Never mind that. If Ellen says you've never looked better, then I trust her judgement, and I have to see it on you. And then, you can carefully take it back off, and save it for ... I don't know, the wedding of someone you don't like, so you can outshine the bride."

She laughed, out of relief and amusement. "Um... if it's okay, I'll describe it as I put it on, but would you close your eyes? I think I'd like to see the look you give me when it's fully put-together. Then, your slutty little assistant can come back out and play."

I smiled. "Of course, Leslie. Tell me when to open them." She returned my smile broadly. "I will, Sir."

I settled back in my chair, and heard her open the bag. "Mr. McCambridge put a sort of shelf bra in the bodice so I could wear it without one. Which is good, because there's no way to wear a bra with this dress, even if I wanted to.

"It's backless, and the shelf bra gives me a ... well, it gives me a pretty spectacular silhouette. I think you'll like it, sir. Ellen said that her father always said that the best way to highlight a body part you like is to cover it up, but allow an occasional glimpse as you move. So it's designed to give you just that, the occasional glimpse of cleavage and of leg, just enough to tease, but not enough to cause you to stare."

I felt her hand on my shoulder. "Forgive me, Mr. H. Just need to step into these shoes. Okay, open your eyes in three, two, one... Now."

Holy mother of God. She was a vision, dressed in a floor-length sleeveless black gown. Only, as I looked more closely, it wasn't pure black. Woven into the fabric of the skirt were long strands of gold, swirling in with the folds. The overall effect was stunning; you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The front of the bodice was all lace. And yes, Ellen's father was right; the bodice hid and covered her chest appropriately, but there were hints of curves throughout. She slowly turned around, showing me the back or lack thereof. She coyly looked over her shoulder at me, then spun quickly the rest of the way around. The spin caused the side slit to flare out; it was almost scandalously high.