Page 55 of Misadventures with a Professor
“I’m afraid you’ve been a bad girl,” I tell her sternly, “and the time has come to do something about it.”
“I haven’t been a bad girl,” she protests as she finally reaches me, and I hear the real umbrage in her voice—my Zandy is someone who always wants to be a good girl, the teacher’s pet, and even though she knows it’s a game, she still can’t stifle the eager schoolgirl inside her who wants to please me entirely. Her puzzled little frown is only half-faked. “I’m a good girl, I promise.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, giving her the steely teacher-ish glare that makes her melt every time. “We need to have a talk about your behavior, Miss Lynch. And about the consequences.”
I stand up, and her teeth sink back into her lip in a display of contrition. Heat pools at the base of my spine, and I have to consciously control my breathing and slow it down. Fuck, how I need this game. How I need her to play it with. Only her, for the rest of my life.
“Do you think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been doing to get my attention, Miss Lynch? The staying after class? The ‘extra studying’ in my office? And do you think I haven’t noticed how you shamelessly display your body to me?”
Deep blue eyes peer up at me through dark, fluttering lashes. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” she breathes. “I promise, sir.”
I slide my hand into the loose, silky hair at the nape of her neck. “I think it was on purpose,” I say coldly. “I think you are deliberately trying to provoke me. And I think you’re about to learn how far you can provoke a man before he acts.”
“Acts?” she asks, blinking up at me.
I yank her close enough that she can feel the hot column of my cock against her belly. “That’s right, Miss Lynch. It’s time for you to face the consequences of your misbehavior.”
And then I bend her over the desk.
I’m trembling. I’m almost always trembling by this point, the sheer fucking filthiness of it throbbing deep in my belly and shuddering heat all the way to the tip of my leaking cock. Something about this game rocks me to my core, makes me feel like every time is the first time, and the fact that I can play it with someone who loves it as much as I do is incredible. I’m humbled by it every single fucking time.
She looks up at me over her shoulder, delivering her most innocent pout. “But sir, I won’t be bad any longer. I’ll be good, I swear.”
I flip up her skirt, exposing a round behind and a sweet pussy that are completely bare. No underthings at all. “This doesn’t look like you have any plans to be good anytime soon,” I say darkly, giving her pussy a hard cup. “I think you’re lying. I think you can’t help yourself, and you’re going to keep this pussy wet and open for me whenever I’m around because you can’t stand not having me fuck you, hmm?”
She grinds down against my hand, chasing the pressure and rolling her head along her folded forearms.
“Answer me, girl. Are you going to start behaving now?” I time my question with the dirty, probing slide of one finger deep into her heat, and she mewls at me.
“No, Professor, I’m so sorry. I just can’t help it…”
“Then you’ll have to face the consequences of your behavior,” I say, injecting my voice with as much grimness as I can muster through all the lust currently pounding through my veins. “How do you stop me, Miss Lynch?”
“Red,” she moans, whimpering in protest as I remove my finger. “But please don’t ever stop.”
Thwack.
The first stinging slap across her ass makes her jolt against the desk, one of her bare little feet kicking up reflexively. I move my own feet around hers, enjoying the picture we make very much—the trouser fabric against bare legs and the rumpled plaid waves of her skirt, the expensive leather of my shoes against the adorable red-painted toes and pale skin of her feet. I give her another quick slap and then sit back down in my chair.
“Over my knee, Miss Lynch. I need to make sure you’re not getting too comfortable.”
The look she cuts me is a prism of all the things I love about our game, about our life. It’s fear and arousal and the distinct slice of rueful affection, and it hardens my cock at the same time it softens my heart. I love her, and I love the way we fit together as I pull her over my lap, as she drops a soft kiss on my forearm, and as I give her thigh a quick, reassuring squeeze before we disappear back into the game.
I pull her skirt up to her waist and spank her until she squirms. I spank her until her legs start kicking up and I have to trap them under my leg to keep punishing her. I keep it nice today, my palm working over a liberal area and striking just hard enough to burn but not hard enough to truly hurt. And then once she’s nice and pink, I part her legs to inspect her pussy.
“Wet,” I declare harshly. “Shamefully wet. I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson at all.”
“Maybe not,” she gasps as my inspecting hand starts rubbing at her cunt. “I might need more punishment.”
“A shame,” I say, picking her up and bending her back over the desk. With one hand, I keep her bent over the desk while my other hand fumbles with my trousers to release my aching erection. “I had such hopes I could turn you back into a good girl.”
“I can be a good girl starting right now,” she begs, lifting up on her tiptoes and bringing her wet, flushed opening level with my cock. I rub my tip against it, enjoying the heat and the slick kiss of her flesh against mine, enjoying her needy moans even more. And finally, finally, after shoving the turgid head into the small seam and lodging myself there, I thrust home.
She’s so tight, so hot, that static fuzzes at the edges of my vision. “I’ve changed my mind,” I say breathlessly. “You are a very good girl. Utterly perfect.”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder as she sends me the kind of saucy look no actual good girl could ever muster. “I like it when you fuck me, Professor,” she says, and she pushes back against me to prove her point. “You make me feel so good.”
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