Chapter 1

I stood outside the house, breathing in the cold, January air. I looked down at my phone to make sure the address was right. The Professor had been very clear that I was not to be late. He had also said I needed to wear a pencil skirt, fitted blouse, front-closing demi bra, and strappy, open-toed heels. I hope he approves, I thought, playing nervously with the tie on my purple winter coat. Mom certainly wouldn’t, if she knew what I used her gift card for. But the dark green demi from Victoria’s Secret really sets off my eyes, and the high cut of the panties shows off my ass.

I wonder if he’ll want to fuck my ass. His tongue felt so good back there before, so I bet he’ll try. Boys always want to fuck my ass, but I never let them. But The Professor, he’s a man.

<shiver>

I hurried down the sidewalk and took the steps slowly, not wanting to be too early. I paused at the doorbell and thought about how I had ended up on the porch of this early 20th century craftsman house (thanks First year seminar on Midwestern Architecture!) getting ready to fuck my Professor.

For the second time...

I sat at my desk, looking at the clock on my computer. 5 minutes until office hours were over. 5 minutes before I could get out of here and go home. There was a bottle of Bulleit rye waiting for me as soon as I got there. Once again, no one had showed to office hours, which was a bit surprising as I had returned their final papers this week and usually that meant a line of bitching and moaning about why their C+ paper was actually worthy of an A+ and publication in a peer-reviewed journal, apparently.

A knock at the door drew my eyes up from my Twitter feed as I cursed under my breath and told the student to come in. Of course they wait until 7:59 to show up. My mood changed as I saw that it was one of the female students from my large survey lecture. Nothing like a graduation requirement to keep those enrollments up!

“Come in,” I said. “It’s a Adeline, right?” I remembered her name for sure. She was tall, probably 5’8” or so, and curvy. She was a cheerleader or dancer or something that had required her to miss a few classes for a tournament in Hawaii or Puerto Rico, and had a curvy, but toned dancer’s body. Either way, she was the sort of woman you noticed when she came into the lecture hall. Bright smile, long brunette hair down past her shoulders, mischievous eyes. She always sat near the front of the class and participated a fair amount for such a large class.

Her eyes weren’t mischievous as she came in and sat down nervously in the chair in front of my desk. No, her eyes looked pensive and worried. I focused on her eyes, as I noticed her low-cut sweater and short pleated skirt that showed a lot of thigh as she fiddled nervously with the hem. I thought she had done well on her paper, and wondered why she looked so worried.

“How can I help you?” i said, again, focusing on a spot on the wall over her shoulder.

Fuck, I was nervous. How did I get a D on that paper? I had been doing well on the quizzes, kept up on the reading, and I started the paper well in advance. “Um, it’s about the paper. I got a D on it, and there weren’t really a lot of comments, other than the rubric, so I’m kind of confused.” I handed him the printed sheet with the rubric and comments on them, along with my student number. The Professor said he wanted to be objective when he graded our papers, so he had us put numbers rather than our names on our assignments. He looked at the sheet and started blathering on and on about structure and thesis statements and some shit.

I didn’t have time for this, as there were no more assignments and this paper was worth 40% of the class grade. I needed him to change the grade, which is why I came late and wore this outfit. I had never heard any rumors about The Professor being down with that sort of thing, like some of the more creepy ones on campus. Or the faculty members in the art department. If my old roommate was to believed, that place was just one big orgy among the students, grad students, and faculty. But what choice did I have. I asked about extra credit.

He didn’t give extra credit he said. Fuck.

“I really need to get this grade changed,” I said. “I’m applying to medical school and I need my GPA to be as high as possible. I’m on a full-ride scholarship, and if I get a D in the course I’ll lose it and won’t be able to afford to stay in school.” I took a deep breath and said the words I never thought I would say, “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to change the grade. I’ll do anything you want.” As I said this, I undid a few more buttons on my sweater, spread my knees a bit more, and started rubbing my thighs. And looked The Professor in the eye.

“Anything?!” he said.

Wait, what? Did she just say what I thought she said? Holy fuck, she did. I didn’t know how to respond, so I looked back at the class spreadsheet that I had pulled up to see her grade. I found her name and looked at her other grades in the class. As I did this, I noticed that the grade sheet listed her paper grade as an A-. That was weird, it clearly said D on the grade sheet. I double checked the student number.

Oh shit, I had transposed the last two digits and written the wrong number on the grade sheet. Her number ended in 69, not 96. I did a quick Control-F to find the student whose comment sheet I had given her. Hmmm, some kid named Albus. Fuckin Harry Potter fans must really hate their child. Also, fuck, I’m old, how is someone named after Dumbledore old enough to be in college? Double fuck how did I make this mistake? 10 points from Ravenclaw.

But she said she would do anything. How many times have I heard that? Never. Never is the answer to that. I should just tell her I made a mistake. But really, what makes her think she flash some cleavage and a glimpse of her panties and get me to change her grade? Am I really that much of a pushover? Does she think that little of me? Maybe I should make this a teachable moment about the consequences of language.

So, I told her to get up, close, and lock the door. And she did. She came back and started to sit down, but I tell you to stay standing and slowly look her up and down, enjoying every inch of her curves. I say that what she chooses to do will determine her grade on the paper, and thus the class, since the big project was worth such a large % of the class grade.

“if you just want to get a C on the paper and pass the class you can come over here and give me the best blowjob you’ve ever given. You will treat me like your high school boyfriend that you thought you would marry some day. You will worship the cock. You will lick the balls. You will go fast and then slow. You’ll use a minimal amount of hands. And you will swallow every drop. If you want a B, you’ll start with the blowjob. But you’ll take off the rest of your bra and panty set. After you swallow all of my spunk, you’ll lie back on my desk and let me taste you. For as long as I like.”

“And if I want an A,” said.

Holy shit, she’s going along with this? I figured that would scare her off. Maybe if I go more extreme she’ll cry uncle.

Or daddy ... stop it, I told myself.

“If you want an A-, you’ll climb on my lap after you cum 3 or 4 times, the last one as I wiggle a finger in your tight ass and you’ll ride me until I fill you up. And if you want an A+, you’ll agree to be my toy for the next semester until you graduate. You’ll come to my apartment every week, where I will use all variety of toys and implements to squeeze every inch of pleasure out of your body. I’ll spank you with open hands, and wooden spoons, and paddles, use a flogger on your tits, bind your wrists and legs and use a hitachi magic wand to make you cum and cum until you cry out for mercy. Then I’ll massage away the kinks in your legs and worship your feet. but the choice is up to you...”

I leaned back and waited for the words to sink in. She stood there fiddling with the button on her sweater. I could see the indecision in her eyes.

I felt like such a dirtbag. I was also hard as fuck.

She finished undoing the buttons and pulled her blouse out of her skirt.

“Wait!” I exclaimed, my voice cracking. “Stop.” She paused, with panic in her eyes. I quickly told her that I had made a mistake and that she actually had received an A- on the paper, which is what she would get as he grade in the class. As I said this, I could see her relax as she realized what I was saying. The worry left her eyes and was replaced with relief, and then something that looked like ... lust? No, it couldn’t be.

That fucking asshole. He made a stupid typing mistake and now I’m standing here with my sweater off and my blouse half unbuttoned. And expecting me to suck his middle-aged, hasn’t seen the gym since high school, grey bearded dick? Much less stick that cock in my tight, 21 year old pussy? As if I would let him eat me out.