Raising the Bar

My freshman year in college, I was having trouble in English class. My professor, Mr. Winters, was a very good looking older man with graying hair that we all agreed made him look like what we liked to call, "one hot silver fox." Anyway, I wore the shortest skirts I could find to his class, hoping that it would boost my grade, but it seemed like he was intent on marking me according to my work, and so I fell further and further behind as he ignored one tight slutty outfit after another.

One day after class, I just couldn't take it any longer. I waited until the class was empty of all but the two of us. I went to his desk with my sweetest most innocent flirty pout, nibbled on my pencil, batted my eyebrows, and said to him, "Mr. Winters, please help me figure out a way to get a better grade in your class. I'm working as hard as I can, but I just can't seem to get all the deep meaning of these stories we've been reading. Do you, um, offer some type of extra tutoring or anything? I mean, I'm really quite desperate to pull my grade up. Please say you can help me."

Mr. Winters looked at me without cracking a smile and said, "I hold private lessons on Tuesday nights, here's the address. Seven sharp." He handed me a business card. And then he looked away from me to straighten his books and papers. I was dismissed. I tucked the card into my pocket, wishing that he had at least bothered to leer down my deep v-neck shirt.

On Tuesday night, I went to the address on the card and was disappointed to find that it was an office building, and not his home. The other offices were all dark and empty though, and he sat alone in his with one light on. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him there, looking striking in a black t-shirt and a fitted pair of jeans. He never dressed like that for class, and you could see the outline of a well trained build beneath his casual outfit.

"Miss Anderson," he called, beckoning me into his quarters. "Please close the door behind you."

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, as the latch clicked. Anticipation rose within me, hoping for, imagining the impossible. I knew that a respectable man like this professor would never even think of doing the kind of thing I was hoping he would do. Yet every step toward him, my fervor grew. By the time I reached his desk, my cheeks were bright red with the heat of longing and guilt.

Mr. Winters sat perched on the corner of his desk, leaning toward me. He seemed to have the agility of someone more than half his age. There was a spark in his eye that I had never seen before; a stern amusement. Had he called me in here only to reprimand me for not doing better in his class? The look in his eye made me wonder, and fear of such a humiliation tightened in my chest.

"So you want to raise your grade, Ms. Anderson." It wasn't a question, but a statement. I nodded dumbly. "Well, in order to raise your grade, your going to have to lower your shorts." His voice was cool and professional. I wasn't sure I had heard him right.

"Yes, that's what I said Ms. Anderson. Lower your shorts in order to raise your grade. Are you willing to humiliate yourself for what you want? Don't bother nodding, either lower your pants or walk out that door.

The door, which had been wide open when I entered, was closed now, but it was glass as were all the windows. Even though the offices where empty, it still seemed extremely revealing to lower my pants in a room filled with windows, and nothing it seemed to keep anyone from walking in and seeing me that way.

Still, my curiosity and my need for a better grade compelled me to stay. I unfastened my daisy dukes and lowered them to my knees, bringing a pink cotton thong into view. I started to lower them to the floor, but Mr. Winters said, "that will be fine. Lean over the desk."

I leaned over his desk, which was lower than my waist, so my ass was pushed up into the air. Mr. Winters walked around the back of me with a wooden ruler in his hand. He spoke in an authoritative voice that send shivers though my body. "You've been very bad, Miss Anderson. Dressing like a common tramp in my classes, trying to tempt me with your young body. Your breasts pushed up in those tight little tank tops with the lace at the top to look like your bra is peaking out, when all the while I know that there is no bra under there at all. Showing off so much leg that your ass cheeks hang out of the bottom of your shorts. For this, I am going to punish you by spanking your bare ass, and this will raise your grade a quarter of a point. If you agree to this say, "Yes Sir."

My body was now trembling with desire. It was like a fantasy come true. To have Mr. Winters spank my naked backside, was just out of a Victorian inspired daydream. Even so, it was just as likely that he merely meant to punish me because he believed in corporal punishment and proper grooming and that he had no intensions of going beyond that to what I really wanted. Still, this was so much more than I ever could have hoped for. "Yes Sir," I managed to warble with a voice as shaky as my limbs.

"Count," he ordered me.

I counted out each burning stinging thwack. He hit me full force six times and then paused before giving me six more. When I said twelve, he laid the ruler down. "Do you Miss Anderson, repent of your error and promise to commit yourself wholeheartedly to whatever it takes to succeed in my class? If you agree, say, Yes Sir."

"Yes Sir"

It was now, that Mr. Winters did the most shocking thing. He unzipped his pants and fished out an amazingly long, thick and veiny cock. It was completely erect and throbbing from it's hardness. He stroked it several times while he looked up and down my body hungrily. "You must drop down to your knees and take me into your mouth. This will raise your grade another small fraction of a point. If you agree to this humiliation, say Yes Sir and do so."

I answered, "Yes Sir," and dropped down to envelope him in my warm hungry mouth. His thick rod was better than any of the college cocks I had seen, and I had fucked quite a few of them this semester. My room mate told me that I was starting to be known as the campus whore. What did I care, I loved cock and I was at college to get as much of it as I could.

I slurped over this older man's tool, sliding it in and out of my mouth and working my hands over the length of his shaft. She could tell from my enthusiasm that I was really enjoying the task, and not just doing it for a grade. As I sucked him into the back of my throat, I felt him expand another two inches and moan. When he could talk he said, "So it's true, you are the campus slut. I see I chose wisely. You're an excellent little cocksucker. Are the other rumours true as well? Do you swallow hot loads of cum like a hungry tramp?"

"Yes Sir," I said again.

"And do you also like to have jizz shot across your face like a fitly whore?"

"Yes Sir, I love a face load of spunk."

He pulled his cock out of my mouth for a moment and slapped me across my face. My ears rang and my flesh stung. "Did I ask for your life story? Just answer me yes sir or no sir."

"Yes Sir," I said simply. He slid back into my mouth.

"Every year I find a new freshman to use as my little sex toy, to humiliate her for my pleasure. Don't think your special Miss Anderson. You're the same kind of trash they all are. Willing to whore yourself out for a better grade because you think you're too beautiful to study. Your going to get an A+ in my class, Miss Anderson. But you're going to have to earn it. You'll have to do every dirty thing I say, submit to every humiliation and disgrace, or else. The first time you decide that what I'm asking is too hard, you get a great big zero. And I'll be sure that you get me again next semester. Is that perfectly clear?"

It was too good to be true. He was going to use me as his sex toy all semester. He seemed to know my every kink, my darkest sexual desires and fantasies. Or maybe he didn't care about all that, he only cared about his own fantasies, which turned me on even more. He knew I wanted him, he knew I was willing. He knew he had me in the palm of his hand. Placing him in the palm of my hand, I stroked his engorged dick so I could answer him in the way he had trained me in so short a time. "Yes Sir."

He took my hair and fed his cock to me. He used me as if I were nothing but a blow up doll, and the knowledge of that made my pussy drip uncontrollably. I could feel my juices sliding down my leg and I imagined Mr. Winter's tongue licking them up. He stroked in and out of my mouth, reminding me of what I was to him. A thing, a slut, a toy.

"Swallow my cum, Miss Anderson. Swallow my cum for your grade you little whore. Swallow my cum for your grade."

With that he shot thick spurts of hot joy juice into my mouth. His cum was sweeter than any man's I'd ever tasted and I sucked it down hungrily. I wanted Mr. Winters' cum inside me, to keep as a souvenir of this moment. It shot out so rapidly, I had a hard time swallowing it all fast enough, but I guzzled it down as quickly as I could and only a small amount leaked out the side of my mouth. He pushed that back in with one thick rough finger.

Mr. Winters pulled me up by my hand. I stood in front of him so revealed, so vulnerable. My nipples were hard and begging to be pinched and sucked. My pussy was dripping and aching with desire. My ass burned and it too wanted to be abused some more. Rather than do any of these things, Mr. Winters extended his hand to me and said, "Congratulations, you just pulled your grade up to a C-. You're passing my class."

I shook his hand, not knowing what else to do. "Get dressed, Miss Anderson, we're done here." I was burning with desire and frustration, but what else could I do? I had sworn to obey him in exchange for my grade. Besides, he held a strange power over me, even with this distant cold attitude that he now affected. I wanted to do what he told me too, even though my body wanted it's own satisfaction. I knew that wasn't an option today. I wondered if he was ever going to satisfy my desires, or if I was only to please him. I knew that, no matter what the answer was, I would carry out his wishes. I would do as he said.

"I'll walk you out," he told me when I had dressed. "The outside door locked behind you when you came in."

He had let me think that there was danger of us being discovered, but he was too smart to risk his own job like that. The pressure of my sexual desire built steadily every moment I stood near him. I could hardly wait to get alone to my dorm so that I could relieve at least some of it.