I can feel his eyes on me. Glancing and darting away, at first; then lingering, his gaze caressing my ankles, traveling up to the point where my bare thighs meet my short skirt. Then higher, studying the curve of my breasts in my tight shirt. Upward, to my face; he blushes and looks away when I catch his eye, but his gaze creeps back inexorably. When he sees the amusement in my eyes, he suppresses a smile and lets me see him looking more blatantly. I’m flattered. I’m aroused.
I part my thighs, knowing he can see right up my skirt to my cute polkadot panties, and his voice falters. He stumbles over his words. I bite my lip so I don’t laugh. What would he do, I wonder, if I pulled my panties aside and flashed my pussy? Don’t think I’m not tempted.
I’m at an evening lecture at my local art college, and frankly it’s a lot less interesting than I’d hoped it would be, but his voice is cultured and sexy, and the way he’s eye-fucking me is getting me hot. I’ve started to tune out the words and just let the timbre of his voice resonate through me. He’s not my usual type, with his tweed jacket and earnest air, but something about the way his eyes keep returning to me suggests he’s more of a player than he first appears.
I’m bored and horny now, feeling like a naughty pupil kept in detention for misbehavior. I start daydreaming about him chastising me for my inattention…
“Rose, do you know the punishment for naughty girls who don’t listen in class?”
“And what is that punishment?”
“You spank them, Sir?”
“Is there a reason why you’re keeping me waiting?”
I stand and walk slowly to his big, old-fashioned wooden desk, pull up my skirt and bend over it. He remains seated.
“I’m still waiting.”
Realization dawns; flushing with embarrassment, I pull my panties down to mid thigh. He opens his desk drawer, pull out a long wooden ruler, and walks around behind me. I wait. I can feel his eyes on me. I picture what he must be seeing: my polkadot panties bunched around my thighs, bare ass ready, pussy shamefully exposed.
I’ve started to shake with anticipation and humiliation when the first crack of the ruler across my bottom makes me cry out. It stings, but the blossoming pain is almost a relief. Now the heat of my burning ass cheek distracts me from the heat of my pussy, the sexual tension that’s been welling up in me since he first caught my eye.
The stinging sensation has barely begun to fade when the ruler slaps against my other ass cheek, making heat flare through me again. I shudder, pressure building, a rising tide of lust. He spanks me again… and then again… never settling into a rhythm, so every strike makes me wait and then comes as a shock against my throbbing cheeks.
I want to rub the burning flesh; I want to rub between my legs, to seek out the source of the wetness seeping out between my lips, to cram my fingers inside and rub until the maddening urge to be filled is satisfied.
“What a dirty little girl you are, Rose. I do believe your cunt is wet.”
“I think you need to get fucked.”
“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.”
“Very well. Smith, come here boy.”
I look around to see where his remark is directed. I had no idea there was anybody else in the room. Now I see a tall boy in shirtsleeves and tie coming up behind me. Clumsily, he pulls my panties down to my ankles with his ink-stained fingers, and I step out of them. My humiliation is increasing at the same rate as my arousal. I don’t want this lumbering boy to touch me with his rough hands, but I think I’ll scream with frustration if he doesn’t.
“Go ahead, Smith,” Sir says, picking up my panties and sitting back down in his chair, directly opposite me. His hand, still holding my panties, disappears under the desk.
I hear a zipper being undone behind me, and then I feel something hard nudging against my pussy, seeking entrance: Smith’s cock. It’s thick, but I’m so wet the head pushes into me easily. It feels so big, so hard, so perfect as Smith pushes deeper, opening me up, filling me, impaling me; so very tight, so very hot. Pressure and pleasure spiral up, the throbbing of my pussy and the glowing heat across my cheeks unified in a forest fire of excitement that sweeps outward to every part of my body.
Smith proves himself more man than boy as he slams into me over and over, making me cry out with each thrust, louder than I did for the strokes of Sir’s ruler on my bottom. My cunt is tightening spasmodically around Smith’s cock, orgasm approaching, intense, unstoppable now. And all the while, Sir holds my gaze steadily, motionless except for the back and forth of his hand under the desk…
The sound of chairs being scraped back drags me from my reverie. The lecture is over. My panties are soaked, my nipples hard. As I stand shakily and gather my belongings, he approaches.
“I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me?” he asks.
“Yes, I’d like that… Sir,” I reply.
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