Big Book of Smut

by Gia Blue

  Valerie knew an answer was expected. “They get punished,” she answered.

  “Keep your hands behind your back,” he ordered, and then his hands were gone from her shoulder blades. What time was it? She’d planned to get to class ten minutes early to prepare her lecture materials and rehearse. Instead she’d been shanghaied to a disused classroom, fingered, and was now bent over a desk waiting for gods knew what—

  SMACK

  Oh, yes. That was what.

  He spanked her ass hard, bare-handed. Bent over as Valerie was, her pathetically short skirt covered little, but Marcus grabbed the material and pulled it up around her waist anyway. As with everything he did that appeared unnecessary on the surface, its intent was to humiliate her, make her more aware of her exposed situation.

  And in spite of her best intentions, it worked. I’m a university professor, she thought. I’m published. Though she thought this to reassure herself, it only underlined her predicament.

  Hell, it turned her on. She squirmed.

  “Who gets punished?” Marcus asked.

  What was it he’d said, so long ago, before the first spank? “Bad girls get punished,” Valerie answered, feeling her jaw move against the desk.

  SMACK

  Marcus hit her ass hard, again, concentrated on the right cheek. Valerie jumped. He continued hitting the right cheek, the sharp sound of his slaps ringing throughout the room. Valerie hoped the sound didn’t carry. This wing of the building was nearly deserted save for her class, but it was public. Anyone could be walking by, at any time.

  The pain intensified, all the more unbearable from being trained on one spot. Finally Valerie yelped, and Marcus paused. “Bad girls get punished WHAT?”

  Valerie didn’t reply. She certainly didn’t want to say what Marcus was fishing for. He smacked her right ass cheek, hard enough that her torso pushed forward on the desk, her nipples hardening from the stimulation even beneath her bra. “Bad,” he said, curtly.

  He smacked her right ass cheek again. “Girls.” It stung, and she hopped involuntarily. Damn.

  He smacked her right ass cheek one more time, as hard as before. “Get.” Valerie cried out. This was starting to really hurt!

  She hopped from one foot to the other, but his hand found her right cheek again, smacking it with force. “Punished.” It was all Valerie could do to keep her hands clasped, and her nipples felt almost as on fire as her ass, the way they were being shoved forward against the desk with every spank.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” Valerie cried.

  He spanked her right ass cheek once more. “WHAT.” The pause after that was heavy with implication. If she didn’t answer now, who knew what would happen. Best to just get it over with. It was almost time for class, if not past, and gods knew anyone could walk in at any time.

  “Bad girls get punished, sir,” Valerie choked out.

  “Good girl,” Marcus said. He began to spank her left ass cheek, and Valerie was so relieved that she almost thanked him for it. Her right cheek felt warm and tingly, but blessedly not being hurt this moment, which seemed incredibly important. He hit harder and it was hurting, and Valerie hopped from one foot to the other, but it felt like a strange balance was being achieved.

  Marcus stopped, and bent over her, practically atop her. His erect cock strained at his pants and poked at her anus. “Soon,” he whispered. He shoved his index finger into her dripping pussy and brought it around to her face, still pressed against the desk. “Open,” he said. Valerie opened her mouth and he stuck his finger in. “Suck,” he said, and Valerie did, tasting herself.

  Marcus straightened up. “Get up,” he said, running his fingers through his hair and smoothing his shirt front. He gestured at the skirt hiked around her waist and her blouse all askew, one erect nipple peeking out above the drooping neckline. “Straighten yourself up, slut, and you’d better hope no one gets too close to you in class today. You stink of sex.”

  Her ass on fire, Valerie adjusted her skirt and straightened her blouse. Her pussy remembered his fingers, and spasmed, remembering, fruitlessly mimicking a real orgasm. It felt good, but it also felt hopeless — it wasn’t an action she could come from. He could have let her come, she thought bitterly. She had been close, not borderline close, but she could have gotten off quickly enough.

  Marcus laughed. “Too bad I took your mints away. You’d better hope no one even talks to you. They’ll smell you on your breath, and think you’re a lesbian or worse — that you eat your own juices.”

  This was not the relationship Valerie had imagined when they’d first slept together. In fact, she hadn’t imagined a relationship at all.

  Chapter 2: How Valerie Got Into Her Predicament

  Two weeks earlier, Valerie had simply been a thirty-something professor of philosophy, not an owned slut. Actually, she’d been the one doing the owning, after a fashion. Her long-distance relationship with Rob, who taught at MIT, had crumbled months earlier. He’d shown himself to be a bit of a priss, and Valerie wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, so they amicably agreed to split up and see other people.

  Valerie had gone on dates, but they’d been lackluster. One was a talker, never letting her get a word in edgewise. Another kept staring at her feet, until she regretted wearing strappy sandals. And the third? When he bent to pick a nickel up off the restaurant’s floor, she saw a frilly, hot pink thong peeking out above his waistband.

  So she’d sighed, resigned herself to being single, and became good friends with her vibrator.

  Until the day she’d really noticed Marcus.

  It was a bit over two weeks ago. She was lecturing her introductory logic class, giving their brain a warm-up for the quiz she was giving that day. Valerie had scrawled simple logic equations on the chalkboard, large enough for them to see clearly. “And this,” she said, punctuating her speech with an abrupt chalk line beneath the answer, “is why you can’t have your cake and eat it too.” She hadn’t turned back to face the class again yet, but she felt their eyes boring into her.

  Thirty pairs of college-aged, mostly male eyes. Just thinking of all the fit, attractive, well-hung young men behind her — and probably staring at her round behind — made her pussy tingle and a pleasant shiver go through her gut.

  That she enjoyed wearing short skirts made it all that much more fun to tease. Her dean had sent a curt e-mail to the department a few months ago, saying there had been complaints and he was instituting a rule: skirts absolutely, positively must cover the entirety of both ass cheeks, no ifs, ands or butts. Valerie had probably been the impetus for that e-mail.

  She whirled back around to face the undergraduates, and her skirt swirled up around her hips, briefly exposing a pair of modest white panties to the entire class. One of the few girls in the class rolled her eyes, but the boys paid rapt attention. Valerie picked up a stack of papers and distributed them to the front desks, and the students passed the pages back one by one.

  “Here’s the quiz that was promised,” Valerie said. “You have until the end of class to identify and label the logical fallacies in these arguments.”

  The pretty boy who always lounged insolently in the back raised his hand. “Miss Dewhurst, so we’re to look for fellatious arguments then?” he asked without waiting to be called on. Valerie was certain she heard some impropriety in his tone, but the homonym was too close — if she corrected him, the entire class would know what she was thinking. The boy, whose name was Marcus, was well hung. She knew. She’d looked. She’d seen the bulge in his jeans, how it strained at the rough denim even though it was flaccid.

  Valerie felt herself blushing. “Yes,” she snapped, immediately regretting losing her cool. It could have been an innocent question. “That’s precisely what the quiz is about.” Marcus nodded and turned to his quiz, and the rest of the class followed suit.

  Valerie worked on grading her other class’ quizzes while the students scribbled answers on their own test sheets. She felt very responsible. As they turn
ed in their quizzes one by one, she awarded them with supportive smiles. As the end of class time neared there was only one student left, boyishly handsome Marcus of the well-shaped body and knowing smile.

  She rose and began erasing the simple equations she’d written from the chalkboard. She felt her skirt swish while she worked, and wondered how much it was revealing. She looked back over her shoulder and Marcus was just sitting there, in the back, sprawled lazily. “Keep going,” he called. “Don’t mind me.”

  Valerie awarded him one of her supportive professor smiles and turned back to erasing the chalkboard.

  “…I’m enjoying the show,” Marcus finished.

  Valerie whirled back around. “What?” she demanded. No student had had the temerity to talk to her this way before.

  Marcus got up and walked to her desk. He set his quiz on the pile. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Miss Dewhurst. Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain.”

  It had been a lie, Valerie knew now. He’d said it deliberately, just as he’d deliberately feigned sheepish regret.

  “That’s okay, Marcus,” she’d said at the time. “How was the quiz?”

  Marcus grimaced. “Not so good.”

  Valerie recalled her last grading session for this class. “You’ve got about a B+ going, if I recall correctly. That’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

  “But I want an A. I really need to ace everything.”

  “Why? Doing your best is a better goal.”

  “My family has high expectations.” He was probably right. His family was a fairly famous name, known for business acumen — some called it ruthlessness — being filthy rich, and rumored in some circles to dabble in unsavory ventures. What those ventures might be Valerie had no idea. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “Well, I’m sure you did well,” Valerie said.

  When the conversation began, they had been standing on either side of the desk. As they spoke Marcus worked his way around the side, and now he was standing uncomfortably close to her. “Valerie,” he said. “May I call you that?”

  She nodded. It was a bit forward, but she often let students speak familiarly with her.

  “Valerie, I find you very attractive. I’ve seen you looking at me. Do you find me attractive too? Don’t lie,” he added. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

  Flustered, Valerie said, “Of course. But you’re just an attractive guy. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m not behaving improperly towards you,” she added hastily. She wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling the dean had it in for her. He could have set Marcus up to entrap her somehow.

  “No, of course you aren’t,” Marcus murmured, sidling a bit closer yet to her. He smelled like…she didn’t know what he smelled like, but he smelled good. She laid a hand on the desk to steady herself.

  “Listen,” Marcus said, “we’re both adults here. I want you, I’m pretty sure you want me—” he shot her a laconic smile — “and I need a good grade. When’s the last time a man made love to you?”

  He had some nerve, Valerie thought, but the thought was quiet, overridden by her libido. He was hot, he made her hot, and, given his age and status as a college student, he wouldn’t form an attachment to her.

  “That’s a personal question!” she said, unwilling to admit it had been months ago.

  “It’s been months, hasn’t it?” Marcus asked tenderly.

  She could love him and leave him, and neither of them would be hurt.

  “Well…” she demurred.

  She could have an orgasm that wasn’t at her own hand. She could feel a penis inside her, taste a cock, wrap her legs around that muscular ass.

  Marcus let the silence hang.

  “Yes, it has been,” she said.

  He did have almost an A already. It would be a simple matter to adjust the curve a tiny bit, and it wouldn’t even appear improper, even if analyzed closely.

  But what if someone caught wind of the affair? What if he bragged on Facebook, or someone caught him making eyes at her in class? It would be a scandal. She’d be fired, out on the street, a black mark on her teaching record making her virtually unemployable.

  “But I can’t,” she said, feeling more in control; she’d made her decision. “I can’t take that chance with my career. We aren’t supposed to sleep with students.”

  Marcus looked crestfallen. Valerie took pity on him. “Tell you what. Give me your number, and we can talk about some tutoring or other non sexual options for improving your grade, okay?”

  To her surprise, Marcus handed her a business card. His fingers brushed her hand as she took it from him. It had his family’s name and business on it along with Marcus’ name and number. “Call me anytime,” he drawled.

  Valerie nodded numbly and watched his behind as he walked out of the classroom.

  Chapter 3: Valerie’s Momentous Decision

  She thought about Marcus that night, and the next day. What would those large hands feel like sliding down her back, squeezing her breasts, caressing her inner thighs? She dressed like she had the day before, in a short skirt and skimpy blouse, and went to the corner bar. It was a bit of a dive for a college town but nonetheless attractive to the fraternity and sorority crowd. Nursing a gin and tonic, she idly wondered if Marcus was in a fraternity. With his pedigree, he had to be.

  She’d arrived during happy hour, and the bar was half empty, but evening had arrived and it began filling up. What was Marcus doing tonight? She’d had a couple drinks, just enough to make her feel horny and, she knew, little enough that she’d still be able to enjoy herself, given the chance.

  Oh, what the hell.

  She called him. “It’s Valerie,” she said.

  “Who?”

  Valerie’s heart sank. “Miss Dewhurst.”

  “Oh! Valerie! So, have you considered my offer?”

  She grimaced inwardly. He was so forward! “I suppose I have. Care for some company?”

  “Sure! I’m not up to anything tonight. Where are you? Do you need a ride?”

  And it was all settled, quick as that.

  Marcus picked her up in a car uncharacteristic for a college student: a dark, impossibly luxurious and utterly unprepossessing sedan. She sank into the welcome comfort of the leather passenger seat and buckled her belt. The large car had a lot of legroom, so she stretched her legs and crossed them demurely at the ankles.

  Normally on a date she’d be nervous, but her position and the drinks had made her relaxed. She was out for a one-night stand with a cute boy with no strings attached…though if he performed as well as she hoped, she’d consider making it a regular thing.

  Valerie flashed Marcus a winning smile. “Thank you so much for picking me up.”

  “No problem. You don’t have to cross your legs, you know.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” she demurred. “I’m comfortable.”

  “No, really, you’ll be more comfortable with them spread.”

  Valerie laughed. “Getting into the mood already?”

  They were now stopped at a red light. Marcus turned to her. “You really should just spread them,” he said, his smile predatory. How she came to know that smile later on.

  Valerie misread the smile as friendly. He was just playing; he wasn’t really ordering her around. This was all for fun.

  Humoring him, Valerie uncrossed her ankles and sat with her thighs spread wide.

  “Good girl,” Marcus said approvingly. Valerie felt a flush of pride, and thought that was an odd way for him to put it. She shrugged inwardly and accepted it as an eccentricity.

  As they neared the next stop light, Marcus said, “Why don’t you unbutton your blouse a little?”

  “Why should I?” Valerie bantered.

  “Now, Valerie,” Marcus said in mock-seriousness, “You know that’s not the answer I’m looking for! For that insolence, I want to see a nipple. Come on, hop to it!”

  Valerie laughed. “What, from one button to a whole breast so fast? What kind o
f girl do you think I am?”

  “A slutty one, of course,” Marcus replied.

  Valerie laughed again, but a pleasant electric jolt shot through her pussy. Hell, his dirty talk was turning her on! Might as well repay the favor. Now that they were out of the downtown area, the streetlights were rarer and there was much less chance of her being seen.

  She unbuttoned her blouse and moved her left bra cup off her breast, exposing it. The nipple was hard, her large areola dark in the dim light. Someone could still see! a part of her mind warned. The rest of her mind didn’t much care. She was pretty anonymous here, and she was about to get properly laid for the first time in months.

  “See how much fun it is to just do as I ask? I bet you’re wet as sin, too.”

  “So? I bet you’re hard,” Valerie shot back.

  They were pulling in to his condo.

  Marcus glanced sideways at her. “Not as hard as that nipple,” he said.

  He parked in the driveway, and moved so quickly that he had gotten out of the car and around to her door before she’d unbuckled and gathered her purse. He opened it, leaned on the door frame, and leered at her exposed breast and spread thighs. “I think I’m going to have a good time tonight,” he said in a low voice.

  His crotch was at Valerie’s eye level, and she eyed the bulge straining at his khakis. Marcus reached down to stroke her cheek, fingers gliding down the side of her throat to her chest and finally, cupping her left breast. It was all done so smoothly she barely had time to think. It was hard to think anyway, with that promise of a cock staring her in the face and the warm hand holding her breast and…wait…her nipple!

  He was holding her nipple. Holding it pretty securely too.

  Tugging it. “Hey!”

  “Come on, we don’t have all night,” Marcus said.

  “But—” Valerie balked, even as she leaned forward to relax the pull on her nipple.

  Marcus bent down and kissed her for the first time. She was surprised, but the feel of his lips was so pleasant, so warm, that she kissed him right back, her own lips parting slightly. She found herself swinging her legs out the open door, even as Marcus’ fingers still kept their hold secure on her left nipple. While they kissed he tugged gently, and a shock raced from her nipple to her solar plexus.