Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Torx73 / MLyons
Title: Cindy - The Professor's Bane
Part: Chapter 2 of 5
Summary: Cindy further humiliates and teases professor Johnson.  She
dresses up and gives him a present.  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.

   Cindy--The story so far: Cindy Kelly, a mysterious and cock-teasingly
cute college freshman, revealed her acquisition of some incriminating bank
records of one Professor Stephen Johnson.  She used these documents (which
she stole along with several other items from his house) to blackmail
Johnson for an unknown purpose.  Johnson was not only guilty of
embezzlement, in years previous he had videotaped several sexual encounters
between himself and his students--the most memorable of them being a girl
named Sarah Jennings.

   Cindy teased Johnson about being a "naughty doggy" and then had him act
the part in his office.  She then had him over to her dorm room where she
made him jerk off in the hallway, teased him to the brink of orgasm while
he licked her lolly pop on the floor, and then masturbated herself as she
watched him shave from the waist down.  Eventually she made him jack off to
orgasm with her sitting on his chest, finally forcing him to eat his own
cum from the back of her thighs.  She warned him of a present that would
arrive the next day, and gave him a videotape to watch as "homework".

   Chapter 2

   'A Special Present for Professor Stephen Johnson.'

   The large pink label on the side of the wooden crate was hard to miss,
and Johnson knew immediately that it could only be from Cindy.

   Johnson hardly believed the driver of the delivery truck, who told him
the crate had been stored locally, as is, for several months when
instructions came yesterday to deliver it this afternoon.

   Several months?

   "What the fuck is going on here?" he found himself saying aloud.

   The crate was about as tall as he was, and made about a two foot square
footprint on the ground, it had a hinged door that was locked shut with a
pad lock, and it was heavy enough that he would need to get his hand-truck
to move it into the garage.

   Between his itchy nether-regions and his troubled reflections on last
night's indignities, Johnson had not gotten much sleep.  What more Cindy
wanted from him, he didn't know, and the crate did nothing but add more
apprehension to the mystery.

   The only possible answer lie in the videotape she had given him to
watch. As the time of Cindy's arrival grew nearer, Johnson knew he needed
to get it over with.  He hadn't felt this nervous in years.  He placed the
tape in his VCR, and sat in the large, plush chair in his entertainment
room.

   It was a copy of the last tape he'd made of Sarah Jennings.  He watched
his younger self join Sarah on the leather couch in his den.  She was
wearing a black mini-skirt and a revealing white blouse with buttons that
strained to contain her ample breasts.  She looked like a slut, and he
remembered how much he enjoyed having Sarah dress that way.  After some
unceremonious tit groping while he tasted her tongue, the younger Johnson
slid his hand along her thigh and underneath her tiny skirt, eliciting an
immediate, breathy response.

   Johnson remembered the conflict with which Sarah would react to his less
than subtle advances, and how much she seemed to hate loving his power
games.  He watched himself cuff Sarah's hands behind her back and spread
her legs--teasing her shaved clit with the toys he'd set aside for her. 
His cock slowly slipped into Sarah's gleaming body, and her increasing need
began to get the better of her.  She begged him to release her hands so she
could touch her clit.

   The video continued and Johnson's cock grew as the details of that
unforgettable night started to come back into focus.

   - - - -

   "Please, Professor Johnson?  Please?" Sarah repeated--begging for orgasm
with her dutifully mousy voice.  Her sweaty body struggled against her
handcuffs.

   "No." he said coldly.  He stopped teasing himself and started fucking
into her.  She was so wet, his cock slipped in and out of her bald pussy as
if she was built to service it.  His hands grabbed her thighs, and he
pushed her smooth legs apart so that her long heels pointed straight up
toward the ceiling.  The smell of his musky sweat mixing with hers
assaulted his nostrils.

   "Please," she whispered.  "Come on, let me go.  Let me go!" Sarah's
little body jerked wetly against the leather underneath her.

   His cock pumped her unprotected cunt, and he relished in his dominance
over his student.  He knew the next couple days would be his last with her,
and he wanted to make them worthwhile.

   "No, no, Sarah, you just get fucked and wait your turn." He couldn't
help himself.  It was just so delicious to treat her like a slut,
especially when she was at such a pitch.  He could see the reaction of
distaste in her eyes, but he had convinced himself that somewhere deep down
she loved being treated this way.

   "No, please, Stephen, I want to cum with you.  Please!"

   "Bad little girl," he ignored her.  He was becoming lost in a world of
submissive girl-bliss.  His dick slammed into her thoroughly fucked pussy.

   "Stephen.  Stephen!"

   He released one of her thighs and covered her mouth with his hand.  Her
arms struggled against her handcuffs, trying to get free.  He liked it when
she struggled, especially when she was struggling not to get away, but to
get off.  He knew he should be nicer to her, but he couldn't help himself.
Just now, he wanted the thrill of complete control over her lithe body.

   "Yeah, you fucking whore!" He was in his own demented world now.  Her
ample tits bounced tightly with each fuck, her blouse partially unbuttoned
and stretched below them.  Her tight miniskirt had long abandoned its
original function, now simply a thin wisp of material draped under her
belly button.  Finally, her calves were now worthless stems, pointing
upward; the stiletto slut-pumps he made her wear shook and jerked with each
monstrous thrust of his cock.  At this moment, to him she was nothing more
than a pliable, slippery cunt that he was going to use as a sperm
receptacle.

   "Slut!" his hoarse voice grunted abruptly.  Drool escaped his lips and
snaked down to land in a pool on her perspiring stomach.  His dark
fantasies of control had once again become reality.  He jerked his cock
into the girl's pussy, and finally, pure, selfish pleasure engulfed him. 
He felt his first sublime jets of cum pumping into her.  "God, yes!" He
continued pinning her used body against the leather couch as he coated the
insides of her pussy with his semen.

   "Ohhh, God," he said finally, regaining his senses and uncovering her
mouth.  He remained buried inside her pussy, enjoying his post-orgasm
sensitivity as she looked up at him with a hint of resignation.  She smiled
faintly with disappointment in her young eyes.

   He was sure she loved it

   "My turn?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

   "Definitely," he smiled.  "Come here." He grabbed the handcuff key from
the table next to the couch.  He released her wrists, but only long enough
to swing her hands forward and snick the handcuffs back closed in front of
her.

   "What is this?  Come on take these off, Stephen."

   "No, I want to see you get off with them on like a good girl.  And did I
say you could stop calling me 'Professor'?" He wanted to remain in control,
even if only for a little while longer.

   Her eyes were wide with a combination of lust and frustration.

   "You're sick, Stephen," she chuckled warily at him, but she gave in,
demonstrating some of that fun-loving innocence he so enjoyed about her. 
"Fuck, I need to cum."

   She lowered her shapely legs and rested her heels on the floor, her
knees spread wide.  He smiled to himself, proud of what a slut she'd
become. Thinking back on how shy and unhappy she was back when they first
met, and now seeing her handcuffed and playfully on the edge of orgasm gave
him a sick sense of accomplishment.  He was really going to miss her.

   She reached her fingers down to her slit, and started fingering herself
with her bound hands.

   "Hold on, Sarah." He got up and grabbed a bar glass from behind his desk
and handed it to her.  "Hold this under your pussy."

   Her face suddenly turned timidly sour.  "What?"

   "I want to see my cum drip out of you while you get yourself off." It
was a sick idea, he knew, but he loved pushing her limits.

   "You're mine, aren't you, Sarah?"

   "Y. . .  Yes." her shaky voice betrayed a thrill of subservient
excitement.

   "Good, then do as I say, slut."

   "Okay.  Okay," she said naughtily.  With her legs spread wide, she bent
forward and held the crystal bar glass so that it would catch the drippings
from her pussy.  The chain of her handcuffs stretched across her splayed
cunt lips.  Her other hand rubbed her clit wildly.  He could see the girl
trying to get herself excited again.  He was sure he knew how to help her.

   "Tell me what you are, Sarah." He quipped, reveling in the fact that she
hated, yet relished being debased.

   She looked at him.  He could see a dollop of his cum drip into the bar
glass as she flicked her clit.  Her eyes lowered to the floor.  Her arousal
through her shame was palpable.  "I'm a. . . .  I'm a slut."

   He felt exhilarated.  "Good girl.  Are you are little grade slut?" he
pressed, forcing her into character.

   "Yes." Her slender fingers moved faster now, as another few drops of the
girl-juice, man-seed mixture dripped out of her cunt.  "I'm a little grade
slut," she whispered breathily.

   "Good little girl," he bit his lip, still fascinated by the
transformation he'd seen many times before, from an abnormally quiet and
mysterious girl into a clit-flicking, thigh-shuddering, cum-slut.

   "Yeah, are you daddy's little grade slut?" He grinned with an intense,
devilish thrill.  He knew how much she hated her neglectful father (whom
she suspected of cheating on her mother), but Johnson loved playing with
her anger, her strange sense of daughterly slut-rebellion, as if she was
being a bad girl to spite him.

   "Fuck." Her gentle voice trembled as she looked at Johnson with both
lust and charged defiance.  Her breath whistled unsteadily through her
teeth and lips.  He never tired of seeing her get off this way.  She was so
deliciously complex.  Her legs were shaking uncontrollably underneath her.

   "Oh God." Her whole body jerked in time with her frantic arm movements.
"Oh God.  Oh my god.  Fuck you!" she glared at him with tears flowing out
of her eyes, obviously troubled by the mention of her father and yet on the
cusp of orgasm.  He looked at the young girl, knowing she was, at that
moment, a slave to her own sexual demons.  He could only imagine what was
going through her mind.

   "Oh yes.  Yes.  Yes!  Jesus!  Fuck!" She finally let out a restrained,
shuddering moan, and a few more drops of diluted sperm managed to make it
into the glass before it slipped from her limp fingers onto the carpet.

   "Mm, mm." He sat back in his chair, enjoying the filthy display.  He
wanted to her to stay in character.  "Good little slut, now pick up that
glass before it all spills."

   Sarah reached down with her weak arms and picked up the glass, holding
it in her restrained hands.  Luckily, none of its contents had spilled out.
She looked at him apprehensively, her face flushed, but showing a
fatigue--even an impatience--that wasn't there before.

   "What do you want," she stated meekly, holding the glass and looking at
it dubiously.

   "Oh, baby, don't be like that.  Be a little slut for me." He saw that
the spark in her weary eyes was going out.  It would now be not so much a
test of what she would do to satisfy her sexual need, as what she would do
to satisfy him.  He couldn't stop now; his power was intoxicating.  She
would do it--he could see it in her eyes.

   "Drink my spunk, grade slut.  That'll get you you're A." He flashed her
an evil smile, thinking she would enjoy it just like she had come to enjoy
all their other games.

   Her breathing was heavy.  Her dark brown curls wetly lay over her
forehead, her face flushed in a post orgasmic rush.  She frowned at the
glass, and looked back at him.  He knew she was working it out, deciding
whether she'd go through with it--fighting with her shame and balancing it
against her desire to please a man she thought she loved.  It was
thrilling.

   "You want to give daddy that A, don't you, princess?" he teased
mercilessly.  His spent cock already felt twinges of life again.  "Answer
me, baby."

   "Okay." Her voice was barely audible--defeated.  She looked at the
glass. His sticky sperm crept down the inner surface that had rested on the
carpet, and a slimy mixture of cum and pussy juice pooled on the bottom. 
She wore an expression of fatigued worry and disgust.  He could see her
bottom lip shaking ever so slightly.  She looked up at him with broken
eyes. "Yes, Professor," she repeated more brightly this time, obviously
trying to get back into character.

   "Good girl." The thought of his fresh sperm swimming around in her tummy
was intoxicating.

   She tried to smile as she shakily tilted the glass toward her waiting
mouth.

   "Good girl," he repeated.

   He saw the thick liquid slithering out of the glass.  He imagined her
excitement and humiliation, her breath echoing against its shallow walls.
She poured his cum past her smeared lips and onto her tongue until it
pooled into a clear-white mass that immediately started slipping down into
her throat.

   "Now, swallow your Professor's seed you little sperm-slurper." The
defeated look on her pretty face sent a chill down his spine.  At once he
felt so disgusting, and so very powerful.  "Give me a nice thank you
smile!"

   Sarah's eyes dropped to the floor.  She finally gulped it all down at
once.  She clearly labored not to immediately gag it back up.  No smile was
forthcoming, only the humiliated face of a confused girl.  As soon as she
finished swallowing, she started coughing.

   "Doesn't that taste good?" he ridiculed her.

   - - - -

   Johnson's cock throbbed.

   Sarah had been special.  By the time he had met her, ten years ago, he
was miserable, disillusioned with the University system, and all he thought
about was sex and money.  She had made him care about more than that for a
brief period, and somehow he had developed more of an attachment to her,
and she to him, than he had intended.  Eventually, however, his sexual
urges overpowered his affections for Sarah.  She, more than any of the
other students he had seen during those years, was a perfect match for his
dark side.  Even now, he wished that he'd been able to videotape her final,
amazing encounter with him, only days after she had eaten his sperm.

   He sat watching her in a private moment on the tape as she pulled her
miniskirt back down and buttoned up her wrinkled blouse.  She guiltily
appraised the mess of sex toys that still littered the floor around her. 
Her eyes were sad, but her face was flushed.

   Johnson wondered fleetingly what it would have been like if he could
have made their relationship work.  Perhaps he'd have been a happier
person. He knew it was impossible though.  He had needed to end it for her
sake.  He missed her.  He missed how young she used to make him feel, but
most of all he missed forcing her to love the deviant things he used to do
to her.

   No one else seemed interesting to him after Sarah.  Bitterness and
misery slowly became a way of life, and he had practically no patience or
compassion for anyone anymore.  He wanted to make what money he could,
through whatever means necessary, and try to save for a comfortable
retirement.

   He shook himself out of his self-indulgent reflections, and wondered why
Cindy had chosen this tape for him to watch.  The last part of the tape
brought back stomach-churning memories of his disgusting submission to her
the previous night.  Perhaps the tape was simply Cindy's sick justification
for making him eat his own cum.  Still, he couldn't help but wonder at her
motives.

   Looking at the time, Johnson suddenly remembered the other "homework
assignment" she had given him.  After running the gamut of emotion from
apprehension to outright rage, Johnson decided he had better follow his
student's orders and shave the lower half of his body again.  It was
awkward and mortifying, but at least this time she wasn't sitting right in
front of him, getting off on it.  Even when he'd asked Sarah to do it,
those many years ago, he at least had the decency not to watch her.

   Finally, at around 7:00 pm, he heard a car pull into his driveway.  When
he peeked out the window like a nervous child, he saw a modest white
Toyota. Cindy sat in the driver's seat with the dome light on.

   She looked to be composing herself--taking deep breaths while she seemed
to give herself a pep talk in the rearview mirror.  Her young countenance
had the look of a determined young girl, but still so bright eyed.  She
looked almost as if she was scolding herself, wagging her finger at her
reflection.  If he wasn't so terribly anxious about the whole situation,
and aware of what she had been capable of the previous night, he would have
found the display heart-meltingly cute.

   He longed to hear what she was saying.  Whatever it was, he could tell
as he watched her private moment that she wasn't just playing a role around
him.  She was real.  He anxiously rubbed his hand over his damp face.

   She applied a little last minute makeup as she rubbed her lightly shaded
lips together, and he stepped back from the window before she saw him.  He
paced nervously and couldn't catch his breath--trying to figure some way
out of all this.  He was sick at the idea of having to grovel to this
little brat all night.

   "Hi Professor!" she said brightly.  Unlike yesterday, tonight she wore
makeup, complete with just enough eye shadow and classy lip color to subtly
accentuate her best features.  A shiny black barrette held her lazy curls
behind her shoulders.

   "Hello, Cindy." He simply didn't know how to feel.  Johnson was glad
he'd decided to wear one of his suits.  Her silky white blouse rested
delicately on her breasts, and her small knees just peaked out below her
black skirt.  A pair of not- too-modest high heels rounded out the pretty
picture.

   "Do you like my outfit, Professor?" she asked, half pouting at him.  "I
thought since you were such a good little boy last night that I'd dress up
for you.  Do you like it?" She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him
inquisitively.

   Johnson's cock was already talking to him.  He couldn't believe it. 
Soon enough she'd no doubt have him groveling on the floor, but right now
his dick was hardening like lead balloon.

   "Yes.  I do," was all he could manage.

   "Do you?" She squinted her eyes and studied his face.  Before Johnson
could register what was happening, Cindy planted her small hand into his
crotch, groping through his suit pants with her fingers to feel his
stiffening dick.  He felt her squeezing haphazardly at his balls and
shaft--testing him--knowing he couldn't do a thing about it.  He wasn't
really sure if he wanted to.

   "Oh, goody!" She looked almost relieved, but giddy at the same time. 
Her hand wrapped around his trousers to grasp his rigid member.  "You do
like it!  You naughty old man!" Her slender fingers squeezed and massaged
him.  "You're three times my age, Professor." She looked up at him with
mock disappointment.  He couldn't help himself, God what he wouldn't have
given to turn the tables and fuck that sweet smile right off her
prick-teasing face.

   "Come on, let's go in and see if you were a good boy for me." It was
awkward and humiliating, having to take measured, small steps through his
house as she steered him via her grip on his testicles into the living
room. She finally released him and plopped her nubile frame onto the couch,
her legs bent underneath her.  "Undo your pants, Professor."

   Johnson sighed.  His lingering hopes of keeping some shred of dignity
tonight were quickly vanishing.  "Cindy, why can't you just tell me what
you want?" he asked, trying to get her to be reasonable.

   "Professor, come on." She whined.  "We've been through this, and I saw
your dick last night, don't you remember?  Now don't be shy, and be a good
little boy.  Drop your pants.  I want to see if you shaved for me." Her
voice was firm, but playful as if this was all some perverted child's game.

   Johnson slumped his head with helplessness.  He finally unbuckled his
belt, and let his pants fall to the floor around his ankles.  His loose
boxers weren't discreet enough to hide his boner.

   "Yay.  Those legs look sexy." She looked up and smiled, her light hair
bouncing down the back of her neck.  "Now, lemme see your wiener,
Professor. Are you all lubed for me?"

   Johnson immediately felt his heart racing in panic.  He couldn't bring
himself to sleep with the lube bottle on last night, and he'd forgotten to
put it back around his neck.

   "Come on, Professor, don't you like to show your big cock to cute little
girls?" She looked up at him, pouting.

   Johnson knew he had no choice.  He slipped the waistband of his boxers
down his thighs where they dropped to join his pants.

   "Aawww.  It's so cute that you're all hard for me, Professor," she said
as if she was praising her kitten.  "But it's not lubed up.  Why aren't you
ready for me, Mister Johnson?"

   "I. . .  I forgot.  I'm sorry." He was mortified having to apologize to
this teenager as if he was a four year old.

   "Well, lube it up, Professor," she said impatiently.  "Lemme see you do
it." She sat there as cute as a button.

   "I. . .  I left it in the bedroom."

   "Well, go get it, stupid." She scolded, frowning.  "Leave your pants
there."

   He threaded his shoes out of his pants, his cock bobbing helplessly in
front of her.

   He started walking down the hall as she yelled after him.  "What did I
tell you, doggy?  That bottle should be around your neck.  Come on, hurry
up!" She clapped her hands to liven his step.

   He fumbled worriedly through his nightstand to retrieve the bottle, and
then returned to the living room with it, seething with anger at this
princess bitch.

   "Well, put your bottle on, and lube it up, Professor."

   He was embarrassed and his nerves were raw, but he was outrageously
horny for her and desperate to teach her a lesson.  He squirted the
slippery juice into his hand and started rubbing his cock.

   "Good boy," she smiled.  "Now get on your hands and knees.  You didn't
think you'd get away with not slicking up did you, Professor?"

   He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, bending over into a doggy
position.  His stiff dick hung down toward the floor between his legs as
Cindy stood up somewhere behind him.

   "Come on; stroke your cock, Professor.  Be a good boy.  Remember no
cumming."

   He grabbed his dangling cock with one hand and began rubbing up and down
on it, with his other hand holding his upper body off the floor.  He
couldn't get over being in this degrading position.  The arm holding him up
almost buckled when he felt Cindy's hand slap hard against his bare, shaved
ass.

   "Bad boy!" the sharp edge in Cindy's voice almost frightened the old
man. "Bad Professor!" Her dainty hand slapped hard against his ass cheeks
repeatedly.  "Bad, bad bad, bad!" she shouted.  "Are you stroking your
dick, you filthy doggy?  Bad, bad, bad boy!" Her slaps stung harshly for
such a small girl, but it was his feeling of utter submission that made the
ordeal so disgusting to him.

   Cindy smacked him and treated him like he'd been a naughty child at
recess.  Even so, he couldn't help but feel his cock hardening in his
slicked hand while his lube bottle swung below his neck like he was a mangy
Saint Bernard.  His own body was out of his control.  He would have given
anything to jump up and grab Cindy by her blonde curls, force her over the
couch and plunge his cock into her bitchy twat.  His humiliation was
terrible, and his ass continued to sting from the force of Cindy's
punishment.  His arm started to bend and his chest started lowering to the
floor.

   "No, no.  You stay up here." Johnson suddenly felt Cindy's hand grab a
handful of his gray hair.  She pulled his head back harshly and continued
administering his spanking--seemingly throwing her entire body into the
force of the blows.  His head jerked back with each final, measured swing.

   "Naughty.  Naughty.  Naughty.  Stupid.  Professor!" She finally stopped
and released his hair, pushing forward on his head like she was throwing it
away.  His arm finally gave out and he slumped his chest to the floor.  His
ass was actually sore, and he was sure it was red.  He could hear her heavy
breathing behind him.  His hand, almost involuntarily continued stroking
his dangling cock.

   "Okay, Professor, that's enough." Her lighthearted air slowly returned
underneath her breathy voice.

   "Ohhh," he moaned.  The sting of his ass had somehow further sensitized
his cock.  His hand felt so good, he wanted to just release and be done
with it.

   "Professor, stop jerking your cock, now." He felt her shoe snake between
his legs behind him.  The straps on the top of her foot rubbed against his
shaved balls, in warning.

   He stopped, and the rest of his body slumped to the floor.  He realized
how pathetic he had become.

   "Go out to my car and bring in the bags from the back seat," Cindy
walked around so that she stood in front of him.  "No peeking though, you
naughty snooper!" Her calves were flexed in response to her black heels.

   Johnson stood up and started to pull his pants back on.

   "No Professor, no pants.  Your bottom's all shiny red.  I want everyone
to see what a bad little boy you've been." Her condescending voice of
innocent disappointment cut through him like a knife.  He was nothing less
than terrified to go out to his driveway without pants.

   "Cindy, I won't go out there like this.  If people see me like this,
with your car out front, and piece together what's going on. . . ." His
driveway was relatively secluded, surrounded by high hedges, but the
neighbors were often out walking their dogs at this time of night.  If they
looked, they could see Cindy's car from the street.

   "Professor, don't be such a little baby," Cindy retorted with childish
annoyance.  "Do you want me to treat you wike a widdle baby awl night?" she
mocked him with her best baby voice, but with serious eyes.  She paused,
purposefully waiting for his answer.

   "No, but. . . ." He was incensed.

   "I didn't think so.  No 'buts' Professor.  Go on then." Cindy gave him a
single hard slap on his ass, causing him to involuntarily jump at the
sting. Johnson couldn't see anyone outside, and he shuddered to think of
what Cindy might make him do if he refused.  He decided to risk walking out
to her car.

   He skittered out to his driveway like an embarrassed child, hoping to
God no one walked by.  He heard voices on the other side of the shrubs as
he reached the car--some argument about where one of the neighbor's dogs
had decided to do his business.  He was terrified, and moved as quickly as
he could.  He carried in two paper grocery bags of substantial weight, but
did not risk looking inside them.  He could hear Cindy tittering at him
from the doorway as she watched.

   "You're so cute, Professor," she giggled gleefully.  He worried that
they might hear her, but their argument continued unabated.  The evening
had just begun, and already he longed for its end.

   She grabbed one of the grocery bags that he'd dropped off on the couch.
"Now, Professor you got your big surprise package today, right?"

   "Yes, it's in the garage.  What the fuck is it?" he asked without
thinking.

   "Shh.  You didn't open it did you?" she warned with a pout.

   "No.  I couldn't, it's padlocked."

   "Yay!  Good!  Okay, well, you're going to have fun tonight, Professor. I
promise, and if you're a good boy, I'll let you squirt some more of your
dirty goo out of your dick." She said it as if she was offering him candy.
"First, though, you need to change." Cindy grabbed some clothing out of the
bag she was holding.

   - - - -

   "Your cute little dick likes me, Professor." Cindy giggled at him,
watching him sit down on the couch as he nursed his embarrassingly rigid
member.  He knew that his need just played into her hands.  He couldn't
help it.  At that moment, Cindy looked like a perfect piece of fuck-meat to
him, if only he could take her.

   Instead of a full suit, Johnson now wore only a brown netted tank top
over his chest.  Otherwise naked, he looked like a half-dressed,
middle-aged football jock after practice.  Embroidered on the front of his
jersey was another of her fucking word-quips: "Cindy's Slick Prick." He had
looked at it in the mirror and almost retched with humiliation knowing he
would probably have to wear this objectifying outfit all night.

   "Yeah, this'll be fun!" she reassured him.  "So, you like my outfit, huh
Professor?"

   Johnson was caught between arousal and anger.  The sense of the unknown
was driving him crazy, and all this fucking little bitch seemed to want was
to embarrass him.

   "Cindy--dammit!"

   "Come on Professor, play with me!  What kinds of girls do you like to
fuck?" Her slender body sat in a plush chair opposite the couch.  She
crossed her legs, and her black skirt rose up on her thighs.

   Johnson's cock awoke with renewed life.  He just couldn't help it.  His
breath quickened into shorter spurts as his eyes fixed on her bare calves.

   "Do you like good girls, Professor?" Cindy noticed where his gaze had
landed.  She touched her skirt with her fingers and slid the material
farther up her thigh for him.  Her heels forced her toes to point while
they dangled below her.  "Do you?" she prompted.

   "Wh. . .What do you mean?" His shaky voice disgusted him.

   "You know what I mean, Slick Prick!"

   The way she said the name burned into him.  It felt disgustingly apt as
he rubbed his cock, wanting release.

   "Your secretary, Miss Erickson, she has nice long legs, doesn't she,
Professor.  Do you like to stare at them all day?  Is that why you hired
her?" Cindy joined the professor by looking down at her legs--showing them
to him.

   "No." His shallow breathing and his rapid cock rubbing betrayed his
excitement.

   "Oh, come on Professor, tell me the truth.  You chose her cuz she's a
hot pair of legs, didn't you?  I've seen those skirts she wears.  You like
it when those hot legs go and get you coffee, don't you?"

   Johnson couldn't help but lust after Cindy's smooth skin--the shape of
her tight thighs, and the curves of her dangling calves with one or two
barely visible freckles.  Cindy continued taunting the covetous old man. 
"You like it when Miss Erickson serves you like a good girl, don't you? 
Answer me, little Slick Prick."

   "Yes. . ." he whispered.  He couldn't help it.  It was true.  "God yes."
Erickson was a cold tease of the highest order.

   "Yeah, that's what I thought, Professor.  She looked like your type."
Cindy giggled, her dangling leg shaking lightly.  "Is she a good
dick-cushion, Professor?  Is Miss Erickson a hot fuck?"

   He couldn't get used to hearing such lewd things escape the lips of this
petite teenager.

   "I. . .  I don't know." Miss Erickson might have been a bitch to be
tamed, but Johnson had lost his capacity and patience for charm over the
years.

   "Ohhhh, poor Professor.  You didn't get a chance with Miss Erickson did
you?" she chided.  "She's not very nice, is she, Professor?  You wanted to
fuck her though, huh?" Johnson could see Cindy's light fingers start to rub
up her calf and thigh, making him wish he could feel her.  "You wanted to
spread her long, stockinged legs apart and bend her over your desk and fuck
her like a frigid meat-slut, didn't you?"

   "God, yes." Her filthy language penetrated Johnson's psyche.  Where had
she learned these words?  He was lost in the moment.  Precum was regularly
oozing out of his dick, helping rejuvinate the lube on his shaft.

   Cindy suddenly uncrossed her legs, holding them maddeningly together,
and lowered her skirt back down to the top of her knees.  "That's too bad."

   "Wait." Johnson was flummoxed; the objects of his immediate desire had
just been taken from him.  "Wait!"

   "Oh, you're so cute!" she said brightly.  "But I don't think you like
the good girls anyway, Professor.  I think I know what you like." She gave
him a dirty smile as she stood up from the chair.  "Wait just a minute.  I
have another surprise for you.  Don't you dare have an orgasm, while I'm
gone, Mister!  It'll ruin your whole evening."

   Her silky skin looked good enough to taste, and Johnson caught himself
licking his lips almost involuntarily.  He hoped she wouldn't notice.

   She skittered toward the bathroom with one of the paper bags in her
hand. "I'll be right back."

   - - - -

   Precum continued to ooze out of Johnson's cock.  He didn't know what
else to do while Cindy was doing God knows what in the bathroom.  He had
continued lightly rubbing his dick on the couch, but it had softened up a
little in the last couple minutes.  His mind ran on and on about having to
be in this ridiculous situation.  He held out hope that this whole affair
wouldn't turn out so badly, but his stomach was still sick with the idea of
the phrase emblazoned across his chest.

   Cindy opened the bathroom door.  As he saw the bottom half of her leg
creep out from behind it, Johnson tried to prepare himself.  This time it
was tightly wrapped with a thin, black strap criss-crossing from the top of
her tall heels almost to her knee.

   "I know what you like, Professor." She rounded the bathroom door and
revealed herself.

   Cindy's beautiful face and make up were the same, but her outfit was
over the top.  Her pair of strappy heels was only the beginning.  She also
wore a tight mini-skirt, revealing as much leg as possible without giving
away any of the goodies between her thighs.  Her flat navel was bare up to
a strip of black elastic material that stretched across her perky tits. 
Over her shoulders and tube top laid a green see-through tank top.  Her
arms rested on her hips, and her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail
courtesy of a silk scarf that had been woven into it.  Finally, she wore a
necklace with small gold letters resting across her chest, "Skank".

   "You like sluts, don't you Professor?" she smirked.

   "Oh my God," Johnson instinctively reacted.  He was convinced this girl
was put on this earth simply to drive him insane.  She seemed to know more
about him than even he did.  His hand instinctively grabbed his cock.

   "Oooh, yeah." She started walking toward the spellbound man.  "I told
you this was going to be fun!  Yeah, you like to play with little sluts,
don't you?  Tell me." She stood grinning directly in front of him with her
legs slightly spread apart.

   "Fuck, yes." Johnson had lost his sense of self.  He'd have said
anything she wanted if there were a chance she would let him stuff his dick
into her.

   "Such a bad boy." She stood there, her eyes glued to him--watching him
stroke his dick as if he was her toy.  Her lips parted, she breathed
through her mouth with a look of consciously restrained arousal.  Johnson
longed to know what was going through her mind.

   He could smell the light scent of lotion radiating off of Cindy's skin.
He concentrated his attention on her shaded lips and tied hair, longing for
the feeling he would get from stuffing his dick down her tight throat.  He
could hear Cindy's breath shortening as she watched him stroke his rock
hard member.

   "Yeah, I think you better stop touching your dick for now, Professor."
Johnson's breath was uneven, his hand worked furiously, Cindy must have
sensed that he was close.  He reluctantly followed directions and stopped
stroking, hoping, based on the intense look on her face, that he might get
a little more in return.

   "Good boy." She whispered, taking another step toward him.  She reached
up and untied the scarf that held her hair back.  The wispy material
slipped out of her hair and left it flowing down her neck.  Johnson
couldn't breath.

   She playfully floated the scarf across his hard cock.

   "No cheating now.  Put your hands behind your back."

   He did it instantly--slipping his hands between his back and the couch.

   She brought her knee up on the couch beside his leg and lifted her arms
up, wrapping them around his shoulders.  Her other knee rested on the
opposite side of him, and there she was, straddling his lap--her tiny
mini-skirt dangling over top of the sheer fabric that covered his cock. 
Her spandex covered breasts looked so tantalizing this close to his mouth.

   "God, you like sluts, huh?" She said in husky whisper as her tense body
writhed over top of him.  He felt the sheer top tickle his nose as it
moiréd against his vision of her perky mounds.  Dangling just above them
was her necklace, the word "skank" jingling into his consciousness and
further feeding his filthy mind.  Her fruity fragrance wafted into his
nose, and he sat there stone still, fearful of making a wrong move.

   "Did you like to dress your students up like whores, Professor?" she
whispered into his ear.

   "Jesus," he whispered, breathless.

   "Tell me what you want, Mister Johnson."

   He yearned to feel her soft skin, and took in the smell of the lotion
that permeated the fabric around her nipply tits.

   "Please," he expelled; drool escaped from the corner of his mouth,
depositing itself onto her netted top.  "Please." He felt like a desperate
animal.

   Cindy edged forward--spreading her thighs around his body and rubbing
her breasts against his nose.  She slowly bent her knees further and
lowered her petite frame onto his stiff cock, squeezing the impossibly thin
silk between her pussy lips and his steel hard on.  As her body dropped,
she rested her head on his shoulder.  He felt her warm breath tickle his
ear.

   "Please what?" she whispered.

   Her pussy felt super heated against his cock.  Only the scarf kept them
apart as she ground against him.  Her silky lips opened around the base of
his shaft, depositing her juice onto him as it seeped through the thin
material.

   "Tell me what you're thinking."

   She wanted him to beg.

   "No." He wouldn't.

   "Okay, well if you don't want me. . . ." Abruptly, Cindy lifted her body
off of him.

   "Wait, wait, wait!" he said rapidly, instinctively.  He wanted her pussy
back.  He wanted this fucking scarf out of the way.  He fought every
instinct he had not to free his arms, wrap them around her torso and impale
her onto his cock.

   "What is it, doggy?" She wanted it too.  He could tell she did.

   He could see her suck in her breath, closing her mouth.  Her strained
expression betrayed a conscious effort to move away from him, as if she was
defying her instincts and clinging defiantly to some pre-determined plan.
She sat on the arm of the couch, swinging her legs sideways so that she
faced him.  Her miniskirt rode up on her thighs even farther, and he felt
the frigid air against the juiced scarf--now pasted onto his enslaved cock.

   "You're so pathetic, Professor!" Her degrading words were hyper-charged
with sex.  Johnson breathed out with self-disgust knowing that the teenager
was getting off on treating him this way.  "I think you want to fuck, but
you're scared of me aren't you?" she teased.  The tight straps of her shoes
practically imprisoned her calves, as she finally spread her legs for him.
With his chin close enough to touch her knee, her cunt was revealed to him
for the first time.  It was shaved clean.  The scent of her juicy slit
wafted into his nose.  He remembered it from last night, only this time it
was stronger--an acrid, girl-musk that seemed to have a hard line directly
to his cock.

   He didn't know how much more of this he could take.  Thoughts of rape,
of unspeakable desperation, of splaying her legs, and impaling her like a
piece of slut-meat flooded his filthy mind.  He wanted her on his terms.

   "Go on, tell me." Her hands peeled back her miniskirt so that it rested
above her hips, her bald cunt lips and supple inner thighs only a forearm's
length away from Johnson's mouth.

   "Please," he said, not having the words.  Her strong scent made him
salivate.

   She reached her arm up and tilted her head back as she ran her fingers
through her silky hair--pulling it back off her forehead.  God, she was
built to get fucked.

   "Beg me, and maybe you'll get it." Finally, she snaked her hand down
across her flat navel and started fingering herself.

   "I want to fuck you." If this is what it was going to take, he couldn't
restrain himself anymore.

   "Be specific, Professor." Her eyes looked up from her pussy, staring
into his.  She stuffed a finger into herself, and stretched open her lips
in front of him.

   "I. . . ." He didn't know what she wanted.  He didn't care anymore.  "I
want to fuck my cock into you, you fucking slut!"

   She bit her bottom lip in a sigh of obvious pleasure, and closed her
up-cast eyes as she pulled her finger back out of her tight cunt.  It was
slick with her pussy juice.  She got off on control--it was the only
explanation for all of this he could think of, but there was something else
in her eyes.  He didn't understand it.

   "Hmm.  I don't know.  I'm not sure a pathetic Slick Prick like you
deserves a cute slut like me." She held her wet finger in front of his
mouth.  "Open up.  Show me how much you like me."

   He willingly opened his mouth, and Cindy slid her shiny finger down his
tongue.  Johnson tasted the salty juice, freshly extracted from her ripe
twat.  He felt like a simple minded, salivating dog as his mouth closed
around her sticky finger.  When she finally slipped it out of his mouth,
Johnson leaned sideways without thinking--following her finger with his
tongue, wanting to taste her juice directly from the source.

   "No.  Nah, uh.  You little hungry doggy!" She grabbed the back of his
hair and pulled him back upright.  Her other hand reached down and grabbed
his balls over the thin scarf that clung to his cock.  "Bad boy!  You don't
do that."

   Cindy's grip on his balls was just hard enough that he didn't dare move.
She pulled his hair back hard--hovering her face over his.  "You want to
get spanked again?" Her lips closed and her mouth worked behind them; she
let a glob of her spit drop out onto the tip of his nose.  It ran down onto
his cheek as she released his hair.

   His hands were still stuffed behind him.  He felt completely
worthless--a slut's slave.  Finally, she released his balls and sat back on
the arm of the couch, leaving his shaft once again exposed as the scarf
bunched around his sack.

   "Now, are you going to be good?"

   Johnson was insane with need.  He wanted to touch himself.

   "Can I touch my cock?" He couldn't believe he was asking permission.

   "I don' t know," she teased.

   "Fuck!  Please.  Jesus.  Can I just touch my cock, Cindy?"

   "Well, only if you want to a be a pathetic cock-jerker like you were
last night.  You might get some fresh pussy if you can be a good boy,
though."

   He exhaled violently.  "Fuck!" He was a slave to the moment.  He felt
her wet spit slithering down his cheek.  He kept his hands where they were.

   "Do you want to taste some more, Professor?"

   "Yes," was all he could muster.

   "Then tell me what you want.  Tell me what you'd like to do to me right
now.  Don't be bashful." Her finger had returned to her pussy, stuffed
between the moist folds, gathering more sex juice for her "slick prick" to
eat.  He helplessly watched her finger disappear.

   "I want. . . ." His mind was alive with overlapping images of brutal,
hair-pulling, cock-stuffing revenge.  He could hold back no more.

   "I want to stuff my cock into you.  I want to spank you and teach you a
fucking lesson.  I want to pull your hair and rape your tiny ass hole.  I
want to skull fuck you and pump my cum down your little throat.  Specific
enough for you, you fucking bitch!"

   "Oh, gosh." Her finger slowly slipped in and out of her wet cunt as she
fucked herself.  Her head dropped backwards as she exhaled.  He could see
her curly hair tickling against her upper back.  She was so hot--obviously
struggling to maintain control.  He didn't know if she was turned on by
what he was saying or simply because she was making him say it.

   "Hmmm," she said, seeming to will her mind back to the task at hand as
her blue eyes once again met his.  "Pretty big talk, little doggy.  She
removed her shiny finger again and held it in front of his spittled face.
He opened his mouth with uneven breaths.  Once again, Cindy rubbed her wet
finger all over his lips and across the bumpy surface of his tongue.  His
slurping and suckling had a humiliating desperation about it as Cindy
literally fed her bitch-juice to Johnson.

   "Beg me."

   "Pwleesz. . ." Cindy's finger probed his mouth.

   "Please what, Professor?  Do you want to fuck a slut?" she said in her
best innocent little girl voice.  She slid her other hand across her navel
and teasingly lifted up her green sheer top.  Grabbing the stretchy tube
top material, she popped it upward, finally revealing her bare breast.  Her
small nipple was erect and pointed straight at him.

   "Tell me," Her finger slipped from his mouth to retrieve more pussy
juice from the sopping honey-pot between her legs.

   "I want to. . .  I want to fuck a slut." Johnson couldn't believe he was
saying these things to her, but at this point, he didn't care anymore.

   "Good boy," she praised him like a puppy.  "Beg me, Slick Prick." She
stuffed another finger full of her juice into his mouth.  The thick, salty
liquid washed into his mouth and slid down his throat.  His attention had
wandered to her perfect, exposed tit jutting out from under the strip of
stretchy material that once covered it.  Her blonde hair danced across her
shoulder; her tongue absent-mindedly rubbed her glossy lips, once again
driving him mad with her own wicked arousal.

   "I want to fuck.  Please." God he wanted to take her.  He wanted to grab
her legs, force her onto her back, and fuck his unrelenting tormentor into
complete submission.  "God, please. . ." he whispered, out of his head with
single-minded lust.  "Please!"

   "Okay!" Cindy defiantly shook herself out of her own daze, and once
again displayed her bubbly demeanor.  Instead of jumping on top of him, she
quickly covered her small breast back up and closed her legs.

   "Yay, the naughty Professor likes the sluts!" She looked at her prey
brightly.  "I knew it!" She was obviously very excited as she bounced in
front of Johnson--a once charming and powerful man who had been reduced to
begging, wearing a shirt that basically proclaimed him as Cindy's sex toy.
"Come on, Mister Johnson, let's go open your present!" she giggled.

   Johnson felt intoxicated.  "Please, Cindy, stop this." He didn't seem to
be in is own senses.  Cindy's musky scent was still heavy in the air.  Her
sticky girl-juice coated the inside of his mouth and tongue, slithering
down into his throat like the ultimate teenage date-rape drug.  He couldn't
help but think of her as a young, teasing bitch in heat.  He could see the
effort it took for her to remain focused on her task--whatever that
ultimately was.  Her taste in his mouth somehow made him feel all the more
like her property.

   "Please, stop, Cindy."

   - - - -

   "Here you go, Professor!" Cindy flung the door of the crate in the
garage wide open.  He could hear her giggling distantly at him as he simply
stared, open mouthed, at the contents of the box.
   To be continued. . .