Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Torx73 / MLyons
Title: Cindy - The Professor's Bane
Part: Chapter 1 of 5
Summary: Cindy blackmails her professor, an old, broken philanderer
named Stephen Johnson, into becoming his boy-toy.  Themes of reverse
objectification and humiliation abound.
Keywords: MF, M~doll, Mdom, Fdom, blackmail, revenge, humil, va, coll,
nc, bd, sm, sp



   (C) 2004 by MLyons / Torx73

   Author's Note: The following story and the characters within it are
purely products of my imagination, and they are meant to be enjoyed only as
a fantasy.  Any similarity to real people or events is unintentional.

   Reproduction of this story is permitted, as long as no charge is made
for its access, and it remains unaltered with all disclaimers and
authorship information intact.

   PROLOGUE

   It was late; the sun had just fallen below the horizon.  Besides the
waning light of dusk that managed to creep its way through the closed
blinds of Professor Stephen Johnson's den, the only other source of
illumination in the room was the warm glow that washed over his student's
skimpily clad body from the lamp next to the leather couch.  Perspiration
gave a smooth luminosity to Sarah's breasts.  Various sex toys littered the
carpet around the couch--vibrators and clit stimulators that he had used to
great effect in teasing her and denying her release all evening.

   One of her freshly shaved legs was tense over his shoulder.  His hand
gripped the inner thigh of her other leg holding it splayed to the side,
hanging off the edge of the couch.  His hard cock slid into the wet, shaved
folds of her pussy.  When he could get them to do it, he liked his girls
bare and smooth.

   "Ooh, yes," he said in a hoarse voice as a driblet of sweat dropped off
his chest and splashed onto the girl's miniskirt, stretched up around her
waist.  He teased himself, easing his dick out to the head, and then
pressing it back into her shimmering twat.

   Sarah moaned through her clenched teeth.  Her lazy brunette curls
tickled the leather under her head, and her pliable tits peeked above her
stretched blouse.  They jiggled tightly with each of his long thrusts.

   "Please, Stephen.  I just. . . .  God I need to cum," her piercing eyes
bored into him, pleading for release once again.

   "Just take these things off, and fuck me.  Come on, please." Her breath
whisked through her teeth, and her body quivered below him with frustrated
need.  He felt his dick once again slip past her pussy lips into her silky
hole.  He got a thrill out of knowing that she couldn't cum unless she was
able to touch her clit.

   Her small body tensed below him as her arms struggled against the
handcuffs that held her wrists sandwiched between her back and the leather
seat.  Her breath jumped violently in and out of her mouth.

   "Ask me nicely, Sarah." He stopped in mid-thrust, his throbbing cock
stuffed halfway into her--motionless.

   He knew she would do what he wanted, and it was always a treat to hear
her pleas filtered through her insane lust.

   "Please," she started to beg.  "Fuck!" Sarah shuddered underneath him,
trying to maneuver her sweaty body around his immobile member.  Her filthy
frustration was music to his ears.

   "Ah, ah, ah," he chided, pulling his erection ever so slightly out of
her.  Finally, she relented.

   "Please let me come, Professor Johnson." He knew she hated her
submissive instincts, and that's what he loved about making her beg.

   "Be specific, Sarah." He inched his cock forward until it was finally
balls-deep in her wet twat.

   Her bound arms helplessly pulled underneath her, and her voice
shuddered. "Oh, God!  Fuck you!" She laughed through her frustration.

   He couldn't help but smile as well.  He loved watching her.  "Say it,
Sarah." He didn't want to let her off the hook.

   "Please let me finger my clit so I can cum, Professor." Her thin voice
cut in and out on her, and she grunted with single-minded effort below him.
He felt her slithering cunt lips rub around his pubic hair, her body
laboring to gain satisfaction despite its limited mobility.

   He knew that she probably thought she loved him.  Sarah had been the
best fuck of his life.  He wanted to take her submissive body in every
conceivable way.  He knew he was taking advantage of her feelings for him,
but he couldn't help it.

   Her skin was so soft, and her smile was so sweet--her reactions to his
dominance so addictive.  Sarah had been different from the others.  He
didn't even know why he bothered to pop the videotapes in to the camcorders
lining the walls of his den today--habit he guessed.  He used to get off on
the tapes, but Sarah had made them all seem so boring now.

   He knew he would have to end it soon.  He'd stayed with her longer than
he'd stayed with any of his other students, and he even found himself
nursing genuine feelings of affection for her.  As he felt his cock being
squeezed and massaged by Sarah's pleading pussy muscles, he had no regrets
about the extra time he'd spent with her.  He was aching to take her
completely before he called it quits.

   God she felt good.  His power over this girl, in many ways an unwilling
slave to her own sexual urges, was delicious.  He playfully brushed the tip
of her protruding clit with his finger, causing Sarah's legs to shudder
violently under his hands.  Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to hold off that break
up just a little while longer.

   "Please, Professor Johnson?  Please?"

   "No."

   - - - -
CINDY: THE PROFESSOR'S BANE

   Chapter 1

   'Naughty, Naughty Professor Johnson.'

   It was written in flowery handwriting on a pink envelope, which somehow
seemed to be consistent with the bubbly girl who had just given it to him.

   "Go ahead and open it up, silly!" The petite blonde sat across from his
desk, giggling--her bare calves playfully swinging in front of her.  Her
flirty pony tail played along the back of her neck.

   There was something strange about Cindy.  It was unusual for any of his
students not to be intimidated by him--his reputation was not what it used
to be.  He was notorious for being the professor you don't want to get.  He
couldn't help it; the University had really gone downhill.

   Years ago, so far back he could hardly remember anymore, he harbored a
genuine liking for his female students.  They were so pretty and doe-eyed,
and he even enjoyed teaching.  When he started becoming intimate with them,
however, his affection slowly degraded into carnal sexual desire, where he
started down a spiral of deviance that culminated in his unfortunate
relationship with Sarah Jennings.  After he said "goodbye" to her ten years
ago, he managed to break the chain, but the price was a growing
vindictiveness in the classroom that had become almost legendary.  He still
got a thrill out of the power he held over his students, but now, instead
of charm and action, he turned to bitterness and imagination.

   He would often subtly scold and demean the cute girls who braved an
office visit while his mind flooded with deviant sexual fantasies in which
the pretty girls took a leading part--submitting to his imaginary
"discipline" for being such whiny brats.

   With her ribbed t-shirt stretched around her slender torso, her sweet
smile, and her sickening naivety, Cindy would fill that part in his mind
nicely.  He imagined her as a closet sex fiend with the impatience of a
child, unable to keep her hands off herself.  He had visions of cuffing her
wrists overhead on a hook and whipping her bare bottom with
cat-o-nine-tails for being such a horny little girl-slut.  It was times
like this that he really missed Sarah Jennings.

   He shook the images off.

   "Miss Kelly," he groused, regarding the envelope with only a cursory
glance, "I really don't have time for games today.  Is there anything
academic I can help you with?"

   Something about her twinkling smile and the troubling words on the
envelope made him uneasy.  Lord knows, he had some skeletons in his closet,
but the idea of someone like Cindy digging them out was laughable.  This
must have been some kind of freshman joke, or maybe even a proposition.

   "Nope!  Nothing like that," she answered his question cheerily.  "I
really think you ought'a open up that envelope, though."

   Johnson paused at her lack of deference to him, and looked at her
suspiciously.  He opened the envelope, and silently paged through the
documents within--shocked.  It was a collection of bank records that he
immediately recognized as his own--an account that was completely
independent of his University earnings.  It was the one he'd used to store
the money he'd managed to skim from his additional employer in the private
sector.  His mind reeled, but he tried to hide his swelling concern.

   "What is this, Miss Kelly?"

   "Oh, come on, Professor.  You know what it is," she said coyly.

   Johnson couldn't believe what he was seeing.  "Where did?  Where did you
get this?"

   "That's not really important, Professor.  What's important is that if I
give these papers to your boss, Mister Tyrney at Young Industries, he might
start an investigation, and you know what?  I'll bet you'll get in
trouble." She giggled at him.  Was this waif of a teenager actually
blackmailing him?  Who the fuck was this girl?  Johnson's uneasiness turned
to panic.

   He did his best to feign a laugh.  "Uhm.  Miss Kelly, I think that--"

   "Such a naughty old man," she ignored him.  "Do you want to go to jail?"


   Johnson's heart was racing.  If Tyrney saw these records, he'd tell Karl
Young about it and have Johnson's ass.  This was a question of hundreds of
thousands of dollars stolen from Young's pocket over the last 10 years, and
he was a powerful and ruthless man, especially for those in whom he'd
placed so much trust.  In fact, Johnson would not only lose his retirement,
he'd lose the rest of his life--wallowing in a jail cell, or worse, for who
knows how long, and then having nothing to show for it when he came out on
the other side.

   "Miss Kelly--"

   "It's not a hard question, is it Professor?"

   Her sweet demeanor was despicable to him.  Johnson's stomach was in
knots.  He wanted to slap her, but behind her cute eyes was deadly serious
intent.

   He shook his head, more in disbelief than as an answer to her question.
"Cindy, I don't know what you think--"

   "That's what I thought.  Now, are you going to be a good boy?"

   "What?"

   "It'll be fun, I promise!"

   "What do you mean?  Please, just," he exhaled, trying to control his
exasperation.  "What do you want?"

   "Lots of things, Professor!" Cindy bubbled as if she'd just been asked
what she wanted for Christmas.  "I'll tell you what.  You're probably kinda
surprised, huh?  I'll meet you here at the end of the day, say 4 O'Clock?
And you can tell me what you decide."

   Johnson was stunned.  "I don't understand.  Decide what?"

   "Whether or not you're going to go to jail, silly!" She reached her
small hand across his desk and pushed on his shoulder.

   He was shocked and in disbelief at her playful sincerity.  Why was she
doing this?  He wanted to ask, but he could only manage, "Wh. . .  Why--"

   Her smile had dissolved just as easily as it had appeared.  "Because,
you deserve it."

   She opened the door and flitted out of his office--her flowing skirt
bouncing along the back of her knees.

   Johnson was left alone.  His eyes were blurry with panicked distress and
furious anger.  Maybe she just wanted money.  His only copy of these
documents had been locked in a cabinet at home.  How did she get these?  A
realization struck him.  He opened the drawer in his office desk that held
the extra house keys he kept there.  His suspicions were confirmed when he
found them missing--who knows for how long.

   "Fuck!"

   - - - -

   "So, Mister Johnson, are you going to play with me?"

   Her sweet smile made him wince with disgust.  Was she for fucking real?
He tried to remain calm.  "What do you want, Cindy?"

   Ignoring any semblance of his authority, she walked around to his side
of the desk.  "Well, you're a little dog, aren't you, Professor?"

   "What did you say!" The absolute nerve!

   "A naughty, dirty little doggy." She spoke directly to his face--the
strong grape scent of her bubble gum assaulting his nose.  The way she
provocatively said the words made his dick stir despite himself.  He
couldn't believe she was saying these things.  What a fucking cock-tease,
he thought.

   "Here." She said as she tossed another envelope onto his desk.  "Open
it."

   When he opened the envelope he was in for his second demoralizing shock
of the day.  Inside were a number of pictures of his younger self, fucking
his students at home.  They were grainy, but clear enough that he could
recognize himself and the girls.  He paused at a picture of him with his
dick buried in some strawberry blonde whose name he couldn't remember.  His
cocky face stared into the camera as if he was giving himself a thumbs up.
He was humiliated and his anger stirred anew.  She must have found the
videotapes in his house.  He imagined this little brat rifling through his
things and suddenly felt completely exposed.

   "I like that one, Professor." Her little finger pointed to his naked
body.

   "My God."

   "See, I told you--a little doggy." She giggled and skipped back to the
chair opposite his desk.  "Tell me what you are, Professor."

   Johnson looked at her.  He would not submit to this cocky, insignificant
bitch.  "Fuck you, Cindy."

   "Oh.  So you've decided then!" Cindy made no hesitation in grabbing her
cell phone from a pocket in her skirt.  He wanted to rip it out of her hand
and smash it against the wall.  He wanted to lunge across the desk and
smack her face, but she was so small.  He knew he would be carted away for
assault.

   "Stop.  Wait.  I'm sorry.  Cindy!"

   She held the phone to her ear with her eyes on his, waiting for the
response she wanted to hear.  "Yes, may I speak with Mister Ronald Tyrney
please?" she said.  "I have some information for him.  Thank you." Her eyes
didn't leave Johnson's.  She wasn't bluffing.  She covered the phone mic
and giggled, "You know what?  I hear Ronald's kind of a perv, I wonder if
he'd like some of those videotapes of yours too."

   "I'm a. . .  I'm a naughty doggy." This was unreal.

   Cindy punched the keypad to end the call.  "Good!  That wasn't so hard
was it?" She put her phone back in her pocket.  "You know what naughty
doggies do, don't you, Professor?"

   Johnson sat silently, seething at her.

   "They get down on their hands and knees."

   "What is this game you're playing, Cindy?  You're making a mistake."
Johnson was desperate to talk his way out of this ridiculous situation.

   "No, no mistake.  Down on your knees, right here." She pointed to the
floor just below her swinging legs.  "Just like a doggy!  "

   Johnson rose out of his chair.  He felt like he was out of his body,
taking demeaning orders from a bratty 19-year-old she-devil.  He wanted to
teach her a lesson.  He wanted to grab her pony tail by the fist, pull her
roughly over his knee, yank her skirt down to her knees and spank her bare
bottom like the disobedient child she was.

   He certainly hadn't expected this.  What was he going to do?  "Cindy,
please, this isn't really necessary."

   "Sh Sh," she wagged her finger at him.  "Doggies don't talk, Professor."

   His breath shortened in his tight chest.  He couldn't believe he was
going to do this.  He lowered himself onto his knees, and then on all fours
in his own office.  Even in his subservient position, he couldn't help but
notice how gorgeous she was, in a very petite kind of way.  She was
certainly thinner and less busty than he usually went for, but those bare,
slender calves underneath that skirt would have been almost irresistible
under better circumstances--even at his age.

   "That's better!  See now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Her perky breasts
shook slightly underneath her stretched t-shirt as she adjusted herself in
her chair.  This dainty doll of a girl who he could practically throw
across the room had him just where he would have wanted her.

   "Now stick your tongue out and pant for me," her tone was serious.

   Was she insane?  "Pant?"

   "One more word out of you, you naughty old man, and I'm gonna go call
your perv friend, Ronald.  Now pant for me little doggy," Cindy chided. 
"Come on, be a good boy." She wagged her sparsely freckled calves in front
of his face.

   Johnson could feel his erection betraying him despite his anger and
humiliation.  In fact, his hard on only fueled his anger further.  He
simply didn't know what else to do.  He opened his mouth, stuck his tongue
out and started to pant like a dog.  He could feel the cold air drying his
tongue, and his forehead slowly saturated with sweat.

   "Good, good.  Pant for me." She giggled at him from her seat, rubbing
one of her silky calves against his nose.  He could smell her lotion. 
"You're so cute!"

   Johnson pulled his tongue back in and started to say something.

   "Don't you speak!" she raised her impatient voice for the first time. 
His cock throbbed without regard for the sickness in his stomach as he
caught a glimpse of the white panties underneath her skirt.  "I'll do the
talking!  Now, pant."

   Johnson stuck his tongue out again.

   Cindy grabbed one of the photos off his desk.  "Did you fuck her, little
doggy?" She held the photo in front of his face.  It was a picture of some
blonde bimbo he'd fucked countless years ago.  He couldn't remember her
name.  She had big tits and was on her knees, busily licking his balls.

   "Do you like her?" Cindy was teasing him as she indicated that he should
nod.

   He simply nodded.  He had no choice.

   "Do you like her?  Yeah?  Do you?  Go get her!" Cindy tossed the photo
toward the corner of his office.  I floated over and landed underneath a
metal framed, green vinyl chair.  "Go ahead, doggy, fetch."

   Johnson didn't move.  No fucking way, he thought.

   "Come on now." She stood up and then bent over beside him.  He saw her
ass sticking out under her skirt.  Her thin fingers reached between his
legs behind him.  She grabbed his hard cock over his suit pants, and
squeezed his balls and the bottom of his pole as if they were throttle
controls.

   "Yay!  You do like her." Her reaction was exceptionally giddy, almost as
if it was a relief.  She wanted him to be hard.  "Go ahead, now.  Fetch!"
She tightened her grip on his scrotum until he felt a little pain.

   "No.  No!" He shifted his legs in an instinctive reaction to get her
fucking hand off his balls--feeling like a horny, degraded animal being
groped by a teenage veterinary assistant.

   "Yes, come on." Cindy had no sympathy for his predicament.  She simply
walked along side him like a trainer, continuing to squeeze just hard
enough and repeating her command, "Fetch, doggy, fetch."

   Johnson finally got the debasing message and began crawling over to the
corner.  Cindy insistent fingers squeezed and pulled his ball sack the
whole way--serving as a sick motivation for him to perform his trick.

   She giggled at him.  "I thought you liked her.  Pick it up with your
teeth and bring it back."

   Johnson couldn't believe she was capable of this, her hand still
kneading his sensitive ball sack like a piece of dough.

   "Good boy!" Cindy grabbed the photo from his mouth.

   "Do you like me, too Professor?" She seemed very anxious to confirm his
cock's reactions to her.  She knelt in front of him and brushed her tiny
nose against his a few times like she was cuddling her puppy.  "Do you?"

   His dick became even harder.  He nodded and panted, not daring to
disobey her again.

   "I thought so." Cindy stood up and stepped over to the ratty green sofa
in the corner of his office.

   "Naughty dogs like the young girls don't they, Professor?" She lifted
her smooth leg up so that her knee was on the seat of the couch beside the
arm rest, her white sneaker dangling over the edge.  Her other leg, bare
from the top of her short white sock to the middle of her thigh, wrapped
around to the other side of the arm rest.  The edge of her flowing skirt
dangled in thin folds around her skin.  She bent over causing her skirt to
ride up the back of her creamy thighs just enough to reveal a small hint of
her white panties covering the crack of her ass.  She whipped her flowing
pony tail around so that it dangled next to her shoulder, and she looked
back at him.

   "Did you fuck them like this, Professor?" she said with a confounding
air of sexually charged innocence.

   God she was sexy, and yet he despised her.  He couldn't help but nod
once again.  His eyes were fixated on her panties, straining to catch a
glimpse of her girlish twat underneath.  God he wanted to take her.  He
couldn't help but entertain the idea that perhaps this was her sick way of
coming on to him.

   "Yeah, I saw it on your videos." The tight t-shirt encasing her perky
breasts came to rest on the arm of the couch.  Her panties, and her tight
ass were clearly visible now, dangling off the edge.  Her head lay sideways
on the couch arm as her bright, blue eyes looked at him.

   So she had gotten into his videos.  It was mortifying to think that this
19-year-old knew more about his conquests than he did.  He was captivated
by her display, and disgusted by his arousal.  He felt out of control.

   "Yes, you're naughty, aren't you?  A naughty doggy!" she scolded him a
little too loudly, making him nervous that someone on the other side of the
door might hear.

   Johnson nodded.  His cock was stubbornly pushing against the underwear
underneath his loose suit pants.

   "Aw.  I guess you really don't want to go to jail, huh?  Now, tonight
you're going to come over to my dorm room, aren't you?  Are you going to
come to my dorm tonight, little doggy?"

   Johnson winced at her mocking patronization.  He didn't know what to
expect anymore.  How far was she going to take this?

   "Good," she nodded briskly, not bothering to wait for his answer.  "I'll
see you there at seven--Bowie Hall, room 345.  Don't be late, now." Cindy
got up and started to gather her things.

   Was that it?  What the hell she fucking doing here?  What was the point
of all this?

   "Wait."

   "Bad doggy, bad, bad!" Cindy shouted again, dropping everything and
stepping toward him.  He cringed, actually feeling distressed at what she
might do and nervous that people outside the office might hear.  She knelt
down and grabbed his gray hair, pulling it so that his face was forced to
look at her.  Her other hand reached under him, recklessly seized his dick
and squeezed.  He might have doubled over if it hadn't been for her grip on
his hair.  She leaned down so her strawberry lips were only inches from
his.

   "What's the matter, doggy?  You wanna fuck?" she squeezed his cock and
balls.  The promise of masculine pain, just on the edge of her grip
frightened him.  He fought against the instinct to reach underneath and
slap her groping hand away.

   "Damn, Professor." Her voice almost seemed as if she couldn't believe
his obstinate boner, which felt to him like it was the size of a greenhouse
cucumber.  Fuck her!  She didn't deserve to make him feel like this.

   "God, you're so pathetic," she said with a charged whisper.  She kneaded
him like he was nothing more than her cock-slave.  "Well, if you want to
fuck, come on over tonight and we'll see if you deserve it.  Don't be
late."

   - - - -

   Dressed in the suit he wore previously, Johnson stepped out of his car
in the dormitory parking lot.  It was 7:02 pm, and he was late.

   Sweat leaked from his forehead.  His stomach was tight, and his
breathing was laced with fearful butterflies.  It was almost intoxicating.
His hard on was beginning to return even as he walked through the dorm's
lobby and made his way for the stairs.  He was confused by her intentions,
especially by the last thing she'd said in his office.  Somehow it made him
extremely nervous.

   The din in the dorm was typical of a party school.  Rock music thumped
throughout the hall, various doors were open and students milled through
the littered hallway carrying on like drunk kids who had their parents'
house to themselves for the weekend.  It was typical for a Friday night. 
The occasional student wandering by gave him a strange look.  Luckily the
hallway outside Cindy's room was relatively quiet and empty.  He took in
the filthy excess of his surroundings and shuddered at what she might have
in store for him.

   Johnson paused in front of room 345.  He realized at that moment that
his hands shivered.  He simply didn't know what to expect from the tiny
bitch.  He had hated his subservience earlier, and yet she turned him on.
He nervously straightened his suit, wiping off some lint, and finally he
started to raise his hand to knock when the door suddenly opened.

   Cindy held the door open, looking up at her college professor.  Her hair
was pulled back tightly into another pony tail.  He immediately noticed the
bright sheen of the taut blonde hair above her forehead.  She wore a pair
of very short, blue shorts that exposed her toned upper thighs all the way
down her slender calves to her sneakers.  Johnson noted with some dread the
words embroidered across her breasts on her tight fitting, black T-shirt:
"Boy Beater".  Cindy took a lolly-pop out of her mouth and bounced up in a
slight hop with a smile on her face.

   "Professor!" She stretched her body upward and gave him a peck on the
cheek, taking him by surprise.  "You're a little late, Professor," she
finally scolded with a smirk.

   He was prepared to offer her money.  "Cindy, now listen.  I thought we
might talk this over, and I think after you hear what I have to say--"

   "Professor Johnson, I told you not to be late." Cindy was confoundedly
cute, even as she scolded him.  Johnson felt his hard on returning despite
his best efforts to control himself.  "Why don't you get on your hands and
knees," Cindy smiled, holding her lolly-pop dismissively to the side.

   "What, here?" Johnson said, looking around the empty hallway.  He was
starting to become panicked.  "Now, Cindy--"

   "Come on, Professor.  I thought you'd made up your mind.  Do it."

   Johnson was trapped.  He didn't dare leave.  He looked around and saw no
one.  The thumping of rock music blared distantly through the halls. 
Humiliated and vulnerable, he followed her orders.

   "Good doggy!  Do you want my sucker?" she dangled her glistening lolly
pop in front of his face.

   Johnson was mortified, and worried that someone would see him like this.
Still, somehow he wanted it.  He shook his head no in defiance of his own
instincts, but he wanted to taste her mouth on it.

   "Fuck you, bitch." He said it to himself as much as to her.  He needed
to maintain some dignity.

   "Just for that you'll have to beg for it.  Can you beg for me little
doggy?" Cindy mocked him by raising her hands up like they were a dog's
front paws, reaching to its owner.  "Come on, get up on your knees and
beg."

   "Cindy, please.  Don't."

   "I've got a phone right in here, Professor."

   He rose to his knees and lifted his hands to his shoulders, his fingers
bent.  He felt like a pathetic animal.

   "Oh, you're so cute," she fawned.  "Why don't you unzip your pants for
me."

   He couldn't believe it.  "No, Cindy.  Please."

   She shot him a disappointed look.  "But I thought you wanted to play
with me.  I guess you don't though.  Bummer." She stepped backwards and
silently closed the door in front of him.

   Johnson watched the door close and instantly understood his predicament
as if for the first time.  His heart pounded.  He looked up and down the
hall.  Could he actually do this?  She was going to call Tyrney.  "Jesus."
He didn't know what to do.  The bitch was actually going to call him!

   Still on his knees, he lightly knocked on the door like a helpless
child. "Cindy," he whispered desperately.  "Cindy, please."

   The door opened a crack, and Cindy's peered out at him.  "Did you take
your dick out yet?"

   Mortified, he slowly unzipped his pants.  His cock was hard.  He was
utterly shame-ridden.

   "Good." She opened the door the rest of the way and watched him.  "Now
jerk off," she whispered mercilessly.  "Do you need a little help?" She
reached for something behind the doorframe and grabbed what looked to be a
photograph.  "Here you go." She held it up to his face.  It was a picture
of him with a freckled, stick-legged red-head riding his cock.

   "Now sit up on your knees and jerk off for me.  Don't forget to pant."

   Johnson nursed his dick, ignoring the picture and opting to stare at
Cindy's slender body instead.  God, it felt so good, and so horrible. 
Nervous sweat seeped from his forehead.

   "Yay." She bounced silently as if immensely pleased with herself. 
"Good, keep jerking your cock, Professor, and pant like a horny dog before
I scream and leave you out here alone."

   "Shh, please, Cindy." He nervously checked the hallway.  His hand
massaged his dick while Cindy dismissively licked her sucker and watched
him.  Despite it all, he wanted to cum.  His mind filled with thoughts of
role reversal--of making this fucking cunt bark like a bitch while he
porked her tiny, puckered anus.  His fantasies were instinct, a defense
mechanism.  In a way, it was the only way his dignity could maintain a
foothold.

   "Fuck you," he whispered frantically, his eyes leering at her body as if
he had no choice.

   Her tongue lingered on her sucker as she smiled teasingly at his
frustration.

   "Okay, that's enough, doggy." Cindy's sneaker painfully kicked at his
hand, jerking it away from his urgently unsatisfied rod.  He expelled a
breath, betraying his need, but resisted giving her the satisfaction of any
complaint.

   "Do you want it?" She dangled the cherry sucker in front of his face,
holding it just out of reach.  It was wet with the girl's spit.  "Good boy!
Come on," she motioned him inside by slapping her hand against her thigh,
and then tossed the sucker on the carpet in her dorm room "Go get it!"

   Anxious to get out of the hallway, Johnson quickly crawled in with his
dick bobbing like a loose, steel appendage between his legs.

   - - - -

   Johnson looked at the red lolly pop sticking to the panty-littered
carpet just below his head and wondered how things had come to this.

   "Rule number one, when Professor Johnson is a bad boy, he'll get
punished." Cindy's springy hair bounced as she glanced down at her shirt.
"I'm a `Boy Beater'," she bit her bottom lip in a bashful smile and
stretched her shirt off her perky tits to show him the words, "See?" She
giggled, and then allowed her tight shirt to bounce back home.

   He felt sick to his stomach.

   "Rule number two, Professor Johnson does whatever I say.  Sit up,
Professor." Cindy grabbed a pair of her dirty panties off the floor and
slipped his wrists through the leg holes.  "Twist your wrists so they're
tight."

   Johnson moved his arms so that the panties twisted tightly around his
wrists, binding them in front of him.  He wanted to protest, but it seemed
harmless.  He could just twist out of them again.  At least they were in
relative privacy now.  Cindy pushed him forward so that he landed on his
elbows, the lolly pop positioned below his face.

   She pointed to the sucker.  "Finish it doggy.  No teeth--only your
tongue.  You need to practice."

   He looked at it, disgusted.  "Cindy, please."

   "Rule number three, Professor Johnson doesn't get to cum until I say."
She walked behind him and knelt between his legs--pinning down the pants
that were stretched around his calves.

   "You'll like this game, Professor." Cindy produced another photograph.
This one was of Sarah Jennings.  She was sitting on his couch with her bare
legs spread wide, her tits peaking over the top of her disheveled blouse
and her hands cuffed in front of her.  She was holding a bar glass with a
fatigued look of surrender on her face.  He remembered that night.  The
strange thrill made him forget where he was for an instant.  His cock
stiffened even more.

   "This is so you don't make a mess on my floor, Professor." She slipped
the photograph on the floor under his cock.  He then heard some kind of
slurping sound behind him, and then felt her wrap her lubed fingers around
him.

   "Oohhh." He couldn't help it.  The feeling of the teenager's hand on his
dick was amazing.

   "If you break any of the rules, Professor, you go to jail, and I'm
pretty sure jail won't feel like this." Her hand started stroking up and
down on the thick meat below his belly.  "Now, I'm just going to rub your
dick with my hand until you lick all the candy off of that lolly pop. 
Remember, no teeth, you naughty cheater."

   Her hand felt so good.  She would give him long strokes, and then she
would squeeze the head, making it bob up and down as it reached out to meet
her fingertips.  Each time he came close to coming, she would stop.  The
panties binding his hands reminded him not to break the third rule by
taking over the job himself.  The lolly pop seemed to grow bigger before
his eyes.

   - - - -

   Johnson's throat groaned in frustration as his fingers frantically
clawed at the filthy carpet below him.  He could smell Cindy's dried urine
on the panties that were binding his hands together.  His elbows were
developing rug-burn.  His mouth seemed full with strands of cherry flavored
hair.  He licked at the sucker desperately.  His cock was a dangling bundle
of desperate nerve-endings, gripped tightly in Cindy's slippery hand.  God,
it felt so good.  If she would just. . .  keep. . .  going.

   Cindy's hand released him.

   "Fuck!  Oh-oh-oh!" he shuddered.  Johnson shifted his legs frantically,
desperate for orgasm--his cum just barely on the precipice of squirting out
of his cock--yet she would not allow him to release it.  The insidious
nature of her game had become clear.

   "Lick your lolly, Professor."

   After giving his imminent orgasm a chance to recede, she started yet
again.  Her hand slowly milked his cock like a cow's tit.  Precum oozed out
of its hole.  Some of it served as lube for her stroking, the rest of it
pooled in wet drops onto the photograph of Sarah below his crotch.

   Johnson had lost all sense of how long this had been going on.

   Cindy was a master cock-teaser--sometimes just faintly rubbing the very
tip of his cock with her soft fingertips for minutes at a time--causing him
to cry out with need and squirm in an attempt to get away from her. 
Johnson had become a quivering mess.

   "Lick it, doggy.  You need your practice."

   He lapped his tongue across the lint covered cherry candy as fast as he
could.  Cindy offered him words of encouragement.

   "Is that good, doggy?  You wanna lick my pussy like that, Professor?"

   He did, but only to tease her like she was doing to him.  He wanted to
fuck into her and squirt cum all over her cute face---using her lithe body
as a cock-milker until he was satisfied and the spoiled slut was left
handcuffed with no way to bring herself off.

   The fucking bitch's hand still kept kneading and rubbing his helplessly
teased prick.

   Finally, the last of the candy was gone.

   "Yay, Professor!  Now one more thing." She slid the precum-covered photo
below his head.  "Lick your goopy juice off of her."

   Her fucking fingers kept flicking and rubbing the tip of his cock.  He
wanted to scream.

   "Ooooooohhh.  Fuck." His body shuddered, teetering on the edge, and she
stopped.

   "Come on, lick off your nasty cock-slime, doggy." Her order was harsh,
and plain.  He was insane with the need to cum.  His tongue slid along the
photo, gathering his salty precum into his taste buds.  He wished it was
anyone other than Sarah in the photograph.

   "Good boy!  Now, Professor, you were an awfully naughty boy getting here
late, and for that I'm afraid you'll need to be punished," said Cindy,
regretfully.

   Punished?  What the fuck!  "Let me cum!" he finally pleaded out of pure
instinct.  "Please, I want to cum." He started to sit up so he could
untwist his hands free.

   "Ohhh, poor baby.  No, no, no." She pushed insistently down on him,
keeping him on all fours.  "You have to do something first."

   - - - -

   Her hand held his, and to him it felt like that of a spoiled child, yet
this teenager was clearly more world-wise than her bubbly demeanor let on.
Just feeling her youth through her hand as she led him like a four year old
down the empty hall both intensified his attraction for her, and amplified
the humiliation and frustration he was feeling.  She opened the door to the
communal women's bathroom and led him inside, locking the door behind her.

   "Now Professor.  I want you to shave.  Not to worry, though, I bought
you a razor and some shaving cream." She pulled them out of a grocery bag
she carried from her room.

   Johnson took the cream, wondering what punishment could be worse than
what he had just been through.  He started lathering up his face.

   "No, no, no!" Cindy scolded, frowning.

   Johnson was confused, "You said you wanted me to--"

   "No, not your face, stupid.  Wipe that off.  Here," she handed him a
towel.

   He took the towel and wiped the shaving cream from his face.

   "Now, take off your clothes."

   "My clothes?  No, I. . . ." The mystery of his punishment was starting
to come into focus.

   "Yes, your pants, your shirt and your underwear.  Come on, Mister
Johnson." Cindy was starting to get agitated, "I haven't got all night."

   Not wanting to test her again, Johnson resigned himself to following her
orders.

   "Very nice," grinned Cindy, mocking his somewhat imperfect body covered
in gray hair.  "Now go sit in the bathtub, you burly stud you!"

   Johnson maneuvered himself into the tub, ringed with hard water stains.
"Cindy, please.  Stop."

   "Now spread your legs for me.  Come on, spread your legs," Cindy placed
her small but insistent hands on his knees and pulled his legs
apart--causing him to lose his balance and plop, butt first, into the
bottom of the tub.  She made him lift his legs over the edge so that they
were spread wide, revealing his still hard member.  "Oooh, are you turned
on, Professor?" Cindy cooed at him, mockingly.  "Do you have a hard on for
me?"

   Johnson hated her.

   Even as she asked the ridiculous question, his dick seemed to grow
larger.  His eyes fixated on her super-tight, "Boy Beater" T-shirt.  He
needed to cum.  He wanted to skull fuck her until her throat juice seeped
into the letters covering her tits.

   "Oh, how cute!  You do have a boner for me, don't you?" She looked at
him like a child who'd just gotten her ice cream.  "Wow." Her bright eyes
gave him a naughty glare.

   "Well, if you're a good boy, maybe we'll take care of that later." She
winked at him fearlessly.  She seemed to have become even further empowered
by his perpetual arousal around her.  It was unsettling.  Johnson wanted to
leap out of his skin.  His mind flooded with filthy images of revenge.

   "But," Cindy handed the Professor the razor and shaving cream.  "I want
you to shave for me first."

   Johnson reluctantly started squirting shaving cream over his pubic area.
He still held out hope that this was all just some kind of sick game, maybe
all she wanted was to fuck him on her own terms.  It was a tantalizing
thought, but he had to admit that it didn't make any sense.  He still
hadn't been able to think through what had prompted her to steal the keys
out of his office in the first place.

   "Why don't you do your legs too," Cindy smiled, turning on the water to
the bathtub and handing him another towel.

   "Christ," Johnson whispered, lathering up his hairy legs with shaving
cream.  His cursed dick was tight and stiff; he wanted to stuff her little
pussy so badly he could smell it.

   "Wow, you are a real horny-toad aren't you?" She sat on the toilet,
opposite the bathtub, watching him run the razor up his hairy leg.  He was
mortified.

   "Oh my God, you're so nasty, Professor." She bit her lip.  He could see
her getting excited, and her eyes were locked on him.  Her hand almost
absent-mindedly crept down to her shorts and unsnapped them.  "Come on,
shave yourself nice and smooth for me."

   His heart beat like a freight train.  He was so anxious and excited, he
almost nicked his leg with the razor.

   "God.  Look at you." Her hand snaked into her shorts and under her white
panties.  He saw the knuckles of her fingers working deliberately under the
material.  Johnson felt like nothing more than a demented aid to
masturbation for her.  Still, her arousal was contagious, even if it was at
the expense of his dignity.

   "Come on, now.  Shave your balls, doggy."

   He carefully stretched his cream covered sack and scraped the razor
around his testicles.

   "Good boy." Cindy grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and lifted it up so
that her perky nipples popped out from underneath it.  She started rubbing
one of them along with her cunt--pinching it and stretching it with her
fingers.  "You want to taste my titty, Professor?"

   "Yes." He couldn't help but answer.  The awkwardness of shaving
underneath his iron cock was almost dangerous.

   Her tiny nipple jutted out like a "fuck me" antenna.  "Then shave your
ass, too."

   Johnson groaned in disgust.

   She teased him until the entire lower half of his body was shorn smooth.

   "Get on your hands and knees and come here."

   He felt like a crawling animal--more naked than he'd ever felt before.
His cock was throbbing.  The skin of his balls itched.  He couldn't take
his eyes off of her.  He needed to fuck, and here was a beautiful teenager
sitting on the toilet diddling herself.  He had earned a good fuck after
this wholly disgusting act.

   "Stay right there.  Don't move." She touched herself, seemingly feeding
off of his desire for her.  Her inviting breast teased him; her smooth legs
were wide open and sticking to the toilet.  He could feel the cool bathroom
air breeze past his freshly shaved ass.

   "Oh my God, you're so pathetic." Cindy was losing herself.  Her blue
eyes locked on his body.  He felt so exposed.

   "Sit up.  Put your hands behind your back.  Crawl over here on your
knees and lick my nipple, doggy."

   Johnson's dick bobbed.  He wanted her.  He wanted to take her power
away. He moved toward her.

   "You keep your grabby hands behind your back, Professor.  If you touch
me with anything other than your tongue, I swear to God I'll scream."

   His shuffling knees bruised against the hard tile.  The combination of
her girl musk and the dirty stench of the bathroom invaded his nostrils. 
His tongue reached out and touched her hard nipple.  It was heavenly, and
yet he hated his desire for it.

   "Good.  Oh my God.  Lap it like a dog, you horny freak." Cindy's words
were increasingly urgent.  She had transformed before his eyes.  He could
feel her small body jerking underneath his tongue, the toilet lid jiggled
and slapped against the rim as her sticky skin rode the bowl.

   Johnson licked at her tit, feeling it bend and wiggle with each flick of
his tongue.  It was so soft, so young.  He hadn't tasted anything like this
for so many years.  His cock wanted to explode.  Instead, Cindy did.

   "Oh, fuck.  Get me off, dog." Her small body quaked in orgasm.  Her arm
jerked frantically, her hand buried under her wet panties.  He could smell
the rising scent of her juices as his tongue grazed along her evasive
nipple.  "Oohh." She moaned, breathily.

   "Okay, wait," she said, her chest rising and falling under his hungry
tongue.  Her hand grabbed a fist full of his hair, yanked his tongue away
from her breast, and threw his head away.  "Wait." She recovered.

   Johnson was desperately unsatisfied.  Would this night ever end?  He sat
on his knees next to her.  He felt so ignored--like nothing more than a
used sex toy.

   "I guess you deserve a reward after all, Professor," she said finally,
her perky demeanor returning.  She poked him in the nose with her little
finger.  "Let's go back to my room!"

   - - - -

   "From now on Professor, I want your cock always lubed up and ready to
go." Johnson looked at the small bottle with the attached chain Cindy had
just tossed him.  "Keep that bottle around your neck.  Come on, just like
this." She grabbed it from his hand and wrapped the chain over his head. 
"Well, go ahead, lube up your prick." Cindy had a particular way of
emphasizing the naughty words, as if she was somehow deliberately defying
authority when she said them.

   Johnson extricated some lube from the bottle and timidly began rubbing
his throbbing cock.  After watching her orgasm, he desperately wanted one
of his own.  The feeling was revolting.  The words on her T-shirt seemed
larger than before now--"Boy Beater".  The odd freckle and tiny soft hairs
on her arms made him wish he could feel her hand pumping around his shaft
once again--only this time to complete the job.

   "Yeah.  Make it all slippery wet, Professor." Cindy's bubbly demeanor
had again begun deteriorating.  "Lay back on that bed."

   Johnson immediately lay on his back on the bottom bunk of the bed, still
rapidly jerking off his tent pole.  Finally, perhaps she would allow him to
cum.  Cindy walked over to the bed, where she tucked under the top bunk. 
She threw one of her legs around Johnson's upper torso and sat on his
chest. Johnson's arm wrapped around her waist, his hand still slipping up
and down on his cock.  He strangely relished the weight of Cindy's body
straddling his rib cage.  She thrust the words on her tits into his face.

   "Good boy.  Slurp that dick, Professor." Her breathy lips practically
touched his lobe and her slender arm stretched to the head of the bed to
hold the mounds of her chest over his eyes.

   Johnson could feel the baby smoothness of Cindy's upper thigh against
his pumping forearm.  Her blonde pony tail dangled lightly over top of his
head, the slight perfumed smell of her conditioner penetrating his nose.

   Cindy once again focused Johnson's attention when she breathed into his
ear, "What does my shirt say, Professor?"

   Johnson's hand was a blur on his dick; he was so close, yet so far from
really feeling this girl.  Humiliated, he allowed himself to utter the
words.

   "B-b-b. . .  Boy Beater," he stammered--his barely audible speech broken
by the emphatic cock stroking behind her.

   "What's that, Professor?"

   "B-b-boy Beater," he said, more strongly this time.  He felt filthy,
used, humiliated.  His orgasm was only a few strokes away.

   "That's right, Professor.  You like boy beaters like me?" she taunted
him.  "Are you my naughty, shaved little boy?" Cindy's bubbly image had
drained away completely, leaving only fruity combination of Cindy's
strawberry lip-gloss and the fresh scent of the body lotion trapped in her
T-shirt.

   "No.  No." Johnson started shuddering underneath the teenager.

   "Yes you are." She grunted into his ear.  Her shaky breath whispered
through her teeth.  "You wanna get laid?"

   "Yes!" He was so close.  He couldn't stop stroking.  He was too far over
the edge now.

   "Well, maybe tomorrow--if you're a good boy."

   "Oh my God, " Johnson choked.  His entire body shuddered and convulsed
underneath his young student.  "Oh my God," he repeated, louder now.  His
steel dick erupted its first load of cum behind the girl on top of him. 
The teenager bucked and bounced slightly over his violently shuddering
legs. It felt as if they were spring loaded and directly attached to his
ejaculatory muscles.  His hand squeezed with all its might as another jet
of sperm flooded out of his cock.  Her pungent combination of perfume and
girl musk invaded his nostrils; his metamorphosis from feared Professor to
a naked, shaved, cock jerking boy-toy was made abundantly clear by the
contents of the writing across the small mounds of her breast.

   Cindy grabbed the Professor's hair and pulled his head back; sloppy, wet
slurping sounds filled the room along with his constricted cries of
humiliating pleasure.

   "You're my naughty jerk-squirter, Professor."

   Johnson grunted and shuddered in orgasm--pinned down on the bed by his
'Boy Beater'.  "Oh no.  No." Finally his cock eruptions ended as his
conscious mind began to regain control.

   "Good boy, Professor!" Cindy said brightly, instantly regaining her
child-like exuberance.  She sat up, and then immediately wrapped her leg
back around and stood beside the bed.  She swung her head around and looked
down toward her cute ass.  "Oopsy!  You squirted your cum on me, Professor.
That wasn't very nice!" She turned around and showed him her bottom.  Most
of his cum had squirted onto the hem of her shorts, and was dripping down
her thighs.

   "Ew.  Gross, Professor," she said with slight scowl in his direction. 
He couldn't help but feel a little satisfied at this.  If his dick wasn't
able to touch her, at least his cum was.

   "God, Professor, how much did you cum?" Cindy turned around, trying to
decide what to do.  "I know," she announced, "Since you got your horny
sperm all over me, why don't you get it off." Standing beside the bed, she
bent one leg over his head so that her cum covered thigh hovered over his
face.  "Lick it off, Professor," Cindy ordered with complete seriousness.

   "Cindy, please. . ." he started to say, just as a thick drop of his
sperm dripped off the teenager's leg landing just to the side of his nose.
He could feel it slithering down his cheek; the deep musk of his own semen
was mixing with the strong odor emanating from the edge of her shorts.

   "Come on, don't you want to lick my pretty leg, you horny old man?" She
looked down across her leg and into his eyes.  "Lick it just like you did
my titty.  Come on, be a good boy."

   Johnson felt another dollop of sperm land on his chin.  He wanted to
wipe his face off.

   "No.  No!" she held his arms down with her hands.  "Lick it off,
Professor."

   Johnson, feeling completely debased, slowly stuck his fluttering tongue
out and licked Cindy's thigh.  His salty cum entered his throat, tickling
it.  She made him do the same with her other leg, all while he felt his cum
slithering down the side of his cheek and chin.

   "Good boy," she said after he finally finished.  She lifted her leg off
the bed and forced him to eat what remained on his face.  He'd never tasted
his own cum before, and Cindy giggled at him when it made him cough.

   "Doesn't that taste good?" she ridiculed him.

   If he had his way, he'd never taste it again.

   "Now Professor, I think it's time you got dressed and went home."

   Was this it?  Was this all that she wanted from him?  He slowly got
dressed in his suit.

   "I have some homework for you, Professor."

   Homework?  Johnson looked at her.  "Please, Cindy.  What do you want?"

   "Oop, you missed some." Her finger picked up a little errant sperm from
her inner thigh.  "Open up, doggy."

   Before he had a chance to, Cindy pressed her wet finger between his lips
and slid it along his tongue.  He wanted to bite her finger off, but
instead he obediently swallowed her offering.

   "Good little cum-boy!"

   He wanted to slap her.

   "Now, I'll come over to your house at around 7:00 pm tomorrow,
Professor. Before that you have to have a few things done for me."

   "Cindy--"

   "Oh, you just shush.  It'll be fun!  First thing you have to do is shave
before I get there, just like you did today." She picked up the grocery bag
that held Johnson's new razor.  "Smooth as a baby's bottom, 'k, doggy?" She
then picked up a videotape from her bedside table, dropped it in the bag,
and handed it to him.  "Then you have to watch this.  She's really pretty,
so you should like it.  No getting cum all over it, now!"

   Who did this fucking bitch think she was?  He marveled at her lack of
fear.  There was no weakness in her.  No apologies.  His indignities
tonight, and his "homework" tomorrow spoke of a larger plan, and he
couldn't even begin to fathom what it was.  After what he'd been through
already, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

   "Don't forget the rules, doggy.  Oh, and you should be getting a big
package tomorrow afternoon, too.  No peeking though, it's a surprise!"

   On his way home, he looked apprehensively at the videotape she had given
him.  His knees were sore, his balls itched, his throat tickled, and his
forearms were red with rug burn.  The otherwise innocuous, even jocular
phrase repeatedly kept taunting him--gnawing at his self-esteem,
questioning his very identity as a man--"Boy Beater."

   He hated her.
   To be continued. . .