Dominant Professor: When you crave the punishment, you break the rules.

by Mia Luxe

  As she comes closer my heart pounds. That’s not just any coat, that’s my coat. The one I gave to her when I walked her back to dorms. I look around the class. Students are starting to look as she walks down the steps, wondering why I stopped mid-sentence.

  “You’re late, Miss Harper. Sit down quietly.”

  Does anyone notice she’s wearing my coat? I wrack my brain, but I think I’ve only worn it to class once.

  She walks down the stairs all the way to the front of the class, just a few feet in front of me and sits down. She gives me a look that’s pure brat, her lips pouting and her eyebrows raised.

  Of course she’s late. I told her I was going to punish her, and now she’s earning it. That little…

  I continue. “To be a little more precise, there are two types of violence in the psychopath’s arsenal. Predatory violence, which is calm, emotionless, and pre-meditated. The second is impulsive violence, or affective violence. This is done in a rage-state, where the psychopath can lose control of himself in his need to hurt and destroy. We see these two types of -”

  Willow raises her hand, and before I can call on her she opens her mouth. “Actually, is the term psychopath even used consistently in medical professions?”

  She looks me straight in the eye as she asks, defiantly. There’s a gasp from the second row. The class has seen me throw a student out for interrupting me before.

  I have to stop myself from smiling. She’s trying to provoke me. If she’s already promised a punishment, she damn well wants to earn it.

  Careful, Willow, don’t bite off more than you can chew.

  “Raise your hand and wait to be called if you want to ask a question.”

  I pause, letting seconds tick by until she raises her hand, rolling her eyes. She’s my perfect little brat, and my hand itches to teach her respect.

  “Yes. Miss Harper?”

  “I want to ask the question again.”

  I nod. “You’re quite correct. Truthfully, no psychiatric or psychological organization has sanctioned the term psychopath. However, the term is useful to understand some of the vilest criminals that exist today.”

  I give the lecture analytically, the words flowing out of my mouth as my thoughts dwell on her perfect body, the way she’s going to have trouble sitting in her seat once I’m done with her. She starts to interrupt me once more, but I simply hold up my finger.

  “No more interruptions, Miss Harper. If you want to ask a question, you will wait until break. Understand?”

  She nods. “My apologies, professor Bold.”

  The second I speak strictly to her, she changes from bratty and defiant to submissive and demure. She bites her lip. She wants it so fucking bad.

  I know she needs to be punished. It’s been three days since I spanked and pleasured her. Her sweet, utter, willing submission to me. The way she begged for it all, her body and mind wanting desperately to be molded and trained for my pleasure.

  My cock surges in my pants, and I quickly sit down behind my desk, leaving my notes on the wooden podium.

  “Class, we’re going to go on break ten minutes early today. Come back at the regular time.”

  The class files out, and Willow throws me a glance back as she walks up the stairs. I know exactly where she’s going to be.

  When the last student files out of the class, I stand up and rearrange my pants, my cock bulging obscenely. I pull it up against my stomach to hide it and pull my jacket on. My hardness is covered as I walk to my unlocked office, knowing Willow is going to be waiting for me, just like I ordered.

  Wearing that little skirt and no panties.

  I look left and right, then open the door to my office, shutting it quickly behind me and locking it. I can’t risk another student or professor walking in and catching me spanking Willow’s perfect ass red.

  Willow is sitting on my desk. My winter coat she was wearing is hung up on my coat-rack, and she’s unwrapped like a present for me. She’s my darkest fantasy. Her plaid skirt is scandalously high, and I know her tight little pussy is the only thing under it.

  I walk to her and take her chin in my hand, forcing her to look up at me. She’s breathing quickly, her body trembling and ready.

  “Do you know why you’re here, Willow?”

  “Yes, professor Bold, I know why I’m here. I was late to class, and I was so very rude, interrupting you. I think you’re going to give me a stern talking to.”

  I savor the look of anticipation in her eyes.

  “Do you think a talking to will be enough?”

  She brushes my hand from her chin and hops off the desk in front of me, and I stare down at her petulant, pouting lips that beg to be kissed.

  “I’m not sure professor, I’ve been so very bad…”

  My cock is so hard it threatens to rip out of my pants. I stand in front of her, towering above my perfect little pet. She is so small and delicate, desperate for me to do whatever I want to her.

  “You're going to need a hard spanking to set you straight," I say, and she moans.

  "Bend over my desk." My voice is cold and hard. She obeys instantly. She bends over the desk, arching her ass up. The bottom of her skirt barely covers the cheeks of her ass. I breathe in deeply, smelling her arousal. I can taste her need in my mouth and I lick my lips, wanting to run my tongue over her perfect body and make her cum so hard she can’t walk straight.

  First, she needs to be punished.

  I slowly feel the smooth skin of her upper thighs, pushing my hands up to raise her skirt. A low growl escapes me as I see that she is wearing nothing underneath, just as instructed. Her pussy glistens with need. I slide my finger against her pussy lips, feeling the wetness, teasing her. Her moan is all the confirmation I need that she’s losing control. I lick my finger, tasting her, aching to slide my tongue against her, aching to lick her clit until she cums against my mouth.

  "You came to this office to be punished, my little pet. Say it."

  "I came to be punished, sir."

  "You want me to spank your little ass until it's red, don't you, you naughty little slut?”

  I stroke her ass as I speak, already envisioning the handprints. I want her to beg for it first. To admit this is what she needs.

  "Yes, sir," she moans, her voice throaty and hot. "Please, spank me."

  I let my hand crack down on her ass, keeping my fingers and palm straight so that there is less noise.

  She gasps in response to the first stroke, and as my hand slaps against her ass my cock throbs painfully. I want to plunge myself deep into her young, tight little pussy, make her mine and fill her with my hot seed.

  "Say thank you, my little Willow."

  "Thank you, Sir," she moans, and I stroke her ass. She pushes back against my hand, eager for more.

  I graze her pussy with my fingers, then walk to the other side of the desk. She stays bent over the desk, her eyes wide with need. The pigtails bob as she looks up at me.

  I open my desk and pull out a wooden ruler.

  “I’ll give you the choice, my pet. My hand… or the ruler.”

  She bites her lips.

  “The ruler,” she says, barely a whisper.

  The quicksilver change from defiant brat into my slutty little student begging to be spanked is too much. She wants it so badly. I pick the ruler up and walk back to behind her, enjoying the view of her untouched pussy. I run the ruler against her right buttock, letting her feel the hardness of it.

  I hold the ruler in my hand, judging the weight of it. I lift it up and slap it firmly but gently against her bottom, testing it.

  Instead of a moan of pain, Willow turns her head to look at me with heat in her eyes.

  “Is that all you’ve got, professor Bold? I’ll just keep breaking the rules if you don’t really punish me,” she says in her little brat voice, the one that’s sickly sweet and innocent. It makes my blood boil. She's testing me, and I bring the ruler down harder, hearing the slap of wood on flesh as I slap it agains
t her right buttock firmly. She moans in pain and pleasure, the light red splotch appearing, marking where I struck her.

  I know she wants me to lose control and punish her hard, but I won't, not yet. I slap her left and right buttocks in quick succession, moving back and forth, her firm flesh reddening under the punishment.

  I know she's ready for more. I position the ruler carefully so that the sharp sides won't touch her perfect flesh, and ready myself. I slap the ruler down hard on both ass cheeks at the same time, and her body jerks in response.

  "Oh fuck, professor Bold," she says in shock, and I know she's reaching the limit where pain will overcome pleasure. I won't let that happen.

  "You’ve been such a bad little slut. Tell me, how many more do you deserve?”

  She pauses, weighing the question. I know it’s painful for her, but she wants to prove herself to me.

  "Five," she manages to gasp out. She’s ambitious.

  "My perfect little toy," I say, rubbing her reddening ass. "You're going to get two more. I want you to keep perfectly still. Don't flinch."

  If anyone walks by my office, they will hear the hard slap of wood on flesh, but I’m beyond caring.

  I hold the ruler, preparing to spank her hard. Her ass tenses, and the hiss of the ruler in the air becomes a sharp crack of wood on her ass. She moans in pain but doesn’t move. She asked for five strokes, but two will keep her well within her limits.

  I bring the ruler down again, even harder, and she doesn’t flinch.

  I put the ruler on the desk beside her and run my hand against the flawless skin of her ass.

  “You took that punishment very well, Willow,” I say, impressed that she managed to take the strokes without complaint. I rub her red ass, pulling her ass cheeks apart and enjoying the view of her tight asshole and wet, ready pussy.

  "You can turn around now," I say, and she stands up, turning while biting her lips. She looks up at me shyly.

  "Are you going to take my virginity now, Connor?"

  I know I've told her to call me sir or master, but the way she says my name makes my heart ache. I’m starting to feel things I shouldn’t let myself for her.

  I push it out of my mind.

  Men like me don't deserve love. I’m her fantasy, and nothing more.

  I lean forward and kiss her, tasting her lips.

  "Soon, Willow...”

  I kiss her deeply, pressing my tongue into her mouth and feeling her body respond. I lift her up and place her on the desk, and she winces slightly as she sits on her pained buttocks.

  I'm going to give her so much pleasure that the pain is just an added spice.

  I break off the kiss and stare into her eyes. “I’m going to taste you now,” I growl, and she has this look in her eyes like she wants to say something but is too submissive to ask.

  “What is it, Willow?”

  “I want to see your body. Can you take off your shirt?”

  Her eyes are wide and full of need.

  The request is so innocent, so sweet.

  I hesitate. What will she think when she sees the brutal reminders underneath my shirt? Will she run when she sees the two souvenirs Joe Maturi left?

  I unbutton my shirt, pulling it off and putting it on my desk beside her. Then I take off my undershirt, my chest bared for her.

  She makes a little moaning sound as she devours my body with her eyes, looking up and down my body like she can't believe what she's seeing.

  "Holy fuck, professor Bold, you got shot,” she says, and I know she is looking at the bullet wounds, courtesy of Joe Maturi. The one on my right lung, the second near my abs. She touches me, running her hand down the scar tissue down to the second one, then lets herself feel my abs.

  She looks up at me. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You’re fucking gorgeous professor Bold,” she moans, her hand running up and down my body, and I can hear the need in her voice.

  “Lean back,” I order, and she obeys, holding herself up with her hands.

  "If you make a single noise, I'm going to tie you up and whip you tonight,” I growl, and I see the excited fear in her eyes.

  She spreads herself in front of me, her legs open and her young, sopping wet pussy exposed to me. I want to taste her juices and I lean forward, kissing and licking her pussy. I explore her wetness, tasting her and allowing my tongue to flicker up to her clit. I know she is fighting back moans.

  If anyone came into my office, they would see me lapping at my decade younger student’s pussy eagerly.

  She tastes sweet, a taste that excites the deep, base part of me. The animal, cave-man side of me that wants to slam my massive cock inside her and fill her with my cum. To claim her as my own.

  I let my flicker my tongue up and down her clit, faster and faster.

  Her hips surge forward, pressing her clit into my tongue. Her pussy grinds against my mouth and she gasps deeply before covering her mouth with her hand, her whole body convulsing as she cums hard and tries to keep the sounds from escaping her mouth. Finally, I stop, standing up and wiping my mouth as she lets herself lay back on my wooden desk. She looks so small on it. She’s breathing heavily, her body shaking.

  "I couldn't help it, I made noises," she says breathily, and I can't help but smile.

  "Just a small one. We'll say you didn't quite earn a whipping... but I am going to tie you up tonight. Come over, same time as last night?”

  She nods.

  In truth, I don’t know what I would whip her with. It’s not like I have a room full of whips and chains. A belt seems too painful, but tying her up… that’s all pleasure.

  I put my undershirt on and button up my shirt, checking the time. In our passion, we've gone over break five minutes.

  She looks into my eyes with a happiness that makes my heart yearn for her, yearn to be more than just her dominant professor fantasy.

  "Looks like we went over time. You go first, I'll come in later with an excuse."

  She laughs. “Alright. Um, can I steal your coat again?”

  I smile. “Sure. It will be more suspicious if you come back without it.”

  She walks out of my office wrapped tight in my coat, and my heart leaves with her.

  Merciless

  Willow - Tuesday, November 4th

  I sneak back into the full class, late again and sit down in my seat gingerly.

  Did anyone notice me go into professor Bold’s office? Does anyone suspect us?

  There’s still a part of me scheming and thinking of all the angles. The way I could spin this all in my favor if the dean tried to kick me out for failing too many classes. They make you go up in front of the dean and the head’s of programs and plead your case before they kick you out. I know exactly what I would say.

  “I couldn’t concentrate in any of my classes! professor Bold just kept, God, it’s so embarrassing. I don’t want to say what he did to me in his office… over his desk… in his house on Breeze Avenue. It's just so... humiliating.”

  It would shock the panel of academics who judge suspensions and expulsions. In order to prevent a scandal, they might just pass me. I’d wriggle my way out of another problem.

  That’s what the old me would do.

  Professor Bold opens the door to the lecture hall and strides in with confidence. We share a beautiful secret. A secret that I wouldn’t tell anyone, even if I could use it to avoid getting kicked out.

  God damn. When he took his shirt off in front of me, I wanted to melt. His perfect abs that I want to run my tongue up and down, his strong, powerful shoulders that could carry any burden...

  “Apologies for the wait, I had a last minute issue to resolve.”

  He pauses in front of the podium, adjusting his notes.

  “Well then. In the first half of class we learned about violent psychopaths. You know now that some criminals chose the life not only for riches, but for power. Today’s case study is Joe Maturi.”

  His face twists as he says the words. I sit up straigh
t up in my seat when I hear that name. It’s a name that was on every news report of his undercover operation.

  “Joe Maturi, or Merciless Maturi, was part of the Maturi crime family that was brought down five years ago.”

  Brought down five years ago. He says it as if he wasn't the reason they were brought down. As if his undercover work isn’t the reason their human smuggling ring was broken up.

  This is the first time he’s talked about his time undercover with the class.

  “Joe Maturi, son of Don Stefano Maturi, would be leading the Maturi crime family right now if he wasn’t serving a 15 year sentence.”

  Professor Bold paces as he talks, and it seems as though he’s talking to no-one, as if the class could disappear and he wouldn’t even notice.

  “To understand Joe Maturi, you need to understand the Maturi family. They were nameless twenty years ago, but grew to prominence with illegal underground casinos, fighting rings, drugs, and prostitution.”

  Connor stops behind his desk, leaning forward on it and staring out at the class. His eyes are unfocused.

  “Joe Maturi took trips to Canada to select victims. They needed women for prostitution. He did it without emotion or empathy, the mark of a true psychopath. He chose young women, those in the sex trade and those with substance abuse problems. He targeted those with weak support systems. He took advantage of the most at risk members of society.”

  His fist clenches, his knuckles white, and it’s like he isn’t on the stage. The guy sitting to my left shifts uncomfortably in his seat. This lectures feels too intense. Connor’s muscles are tight and corded, his jaw clenched hard.

  “And that wasn’t enough for the Maturi family. It was never enough for those cold-hearted bastards. They weren’t happy with a few girls coming down a year. They were about to bring in an international shipment of women from Ukraine, one hundred souls.”

  Connor slams his hand down on his desk, and a shocked scream rings out from behind me. He snaps back into reality, looking at us as if he’s surprised to see us still here.