I call you and ask you to meet me at my office at the University. You have a favor you owe me, and I intend to collect. You are required to appear at 2:30 pm. You should have your hair done, your nails done and feet freshly pedicured, and your pubic hair trimmed, but absolutely not shaven clean.

You know I don't like shaven pussy and you don't want me to turn you away without giving you the chance to work off your debt, do you?

You should not wear any deodorant or perfume. Your natural scent is what I need to smell.

ther than that you have flexibility in how you dress and how you present yourself. You may choose to shave you legs and armpits, or not. I find both equally sensual, so whatever makes you comfortable is more erotic for me.

Dress provocatively, but not in a brazen way. Wear either pantyhose or stockings. Do not under any circumstances wear pants. You must wear either a skirt or a dress. You choice of underwear ... whether to wear it or not, and what to wear if you do, is up to you. Whatever you do, do not masturbate to orgasm or have any sex for two days prior to arrival. You may play with yourself, but you may not climax. You may give your husband oral sex, but you may not climax.

Bring a small overnight bag with the following things: a casual change of clothes and shoes, and a masquerade mask of some sort that can partially obscure your identity, but still allow your beautiful brown eyes to be seen.

You arrive at my office promptly ten minutes before the required time.

"Where is Dr. Adam's Office?" you ask my division secretary.

She admires you for a moment, then responds, "You must be Ms. Silvia." You nod. "He asked if you could stay here in the lobby until he is ready?"

You take a seat and wait. Our appointed time comes and goes. Professors and students walk by and all admire you, discretely. Ten minutes after we are supposed to meet the secretary asks you to go down the hall to my office.

I open the door. I am dressed in a light grey business suit, blue shirt and tie. The blue of the shirt seems to accentuate the blue in my eyes.

Without a word I take your hand and usher you into my office, shutting the heavy door behind you and drawing the blinds. Sensual music plays in the background. The office is dimly lit by an ornate desk lamp, filled with books, diplomas and a few subtly sensual paintings.

Once we are isolated from the outside world I quickly press you up against the wall, my left hand entwined in your hair, my right at your waist, searching for the tie to your sexy dress. I press my lips against your neck, right below your ear, breathing in your natural scent, then begin to softly nibble ... then more lustily, more forcefully I start to ravage your neck, ears, chin, cheeks and finally your lips with my mouth.

You begin to moan and I abruptly stop and take half a step back. "Shh!" I admonish you sternly. "No words, no noise!" You lean toward me to continue the too brief kiss, but I press you back against the wall.

"Hands above your head." I whisper my command and you promptly obey, assuming the position of a dungeon prisoner, hands bound together as though caught in invisible chains. I admire you in this position. "Good, very good, Silvia. You'll do well. I knew you would."

I step back again to appraise your beauty. I'm captivated, enthralled, but I cannot show it. I must maintain my commanding demeanor.

Still holding the tie of your dress, I slowly pull the cord until the knot is undone. The dress unwraps, but in this position does not open, only exposing a narrow strip of golden flesh from your neck, down your cleavage to your kissable middle, to the lace of your black panties, naked thighs and stocking tops. It's hard not to gasp in admiration, but I maintain my stern demeanor.

I step back again. The motion sets my erection loose from the trapped position against my leg and forms an obvious tent pointed directly at you. The movement catches your eye and you glance down, allowing yourself a subtle wicked smile of acknowledgment.

"Lower your arms and take off your dress. Hang it there on the coat rack. Turn around, bend over and put your hands against the wall, with your legs spread shoulder width. Close your eyes." You follow my commands gracefully, without a word of resistance or question.

As I admire your glorious ass accentuated by the sheer lace panel of the panties, I can't help but think how I just want to drop the role play and just fuck you right now. But the game must go on.

"Lower, bend lower," I instruct and you comply. I sit in my leather desk chair and my face is level with your perfect bottom. I roll over closer to you to perform my inspection, and see your juices moistening the panel of your panties. The scent of your pussy is intoxicating.

Slowly I lower your panties and leave them at the top of your stockings. With your legs spread they won't drop farther. I spread your cheeks with my left hand and bring my right index finger to your mouth. "Suck it."

The work you do with your lips and tongue on my finger almost makes me cum, but I pull it out of your warm mouth before you can accomplish that feat. I take my finger and trail it gently across your flowering lower lips, not really touching, just grazing, upward until I reach the forbidden rear entrance. After a quick lick at your puckered hole--a lick that's really more for my own pleasure than yours--I press my moistened digit oh so gently into your ass. You can't help but gasp.

My finger still inside your tight rear entrance, I rise to my feet and unzip my fly. I take out my throbbing cock and place it right at the opening of your sopping pussy.

I press the shiny-hard helmet of my throbbing cock against your entrance. I pause, rubbing the tip up and down, parting your lips, covering myself in your flowing juices. I press the end against your clit, and grind it against you, then slowly slide up again, parting your labia, starting to open your flower with my heat. I tease you, inserting just the very end into your warm wetness. You start to moan. You try to push back into me to envelop me, but I withdraw, still teasing, not letting you yet possess the full length you so richly deserve.

Instead I hold my shaft upright against your sopping cunny and press hard, sliding my finger deeper into your ass at the same time. Your wet folds try to envelop me, from the base of my hard weapon jammed against your clit to the mouth of your womanhood near the tip. You sob quietly in frustration ... so close to your desire, but so maddeningly far. You can't see how hard I am biting my lip, making myself remain stoic when all I really want to do is fill your glorious warmth with my aching cock, then with my spurting seed.

But my desire to fill you is not as deep as the desire to overwhelm you. I step back, keeping my finger buried deep in your sweet round ass, but breaking contact between your dripping magnificence and my throbbing hardness.

You are still bent over, hands against the wall, as I remove my finger agonizingly slowly and move toward your face. Obediently, you still have your eyes closed, so it takes you by surprise as I roughly thrust my hand into the cup of your bra, quickly locate your long, hard nipple between my thumb and forefinger and squeeze hard. The brief shock of pain in your nipple rolls through the rest of your body as a flush of hot pleasure. I guide the tip of my cock under your outstretched arms toward your face. I'm sure that you can feel my heat and smell your own powerful desire that slickens my shaft.

My left hand strokes your cheek tenderly. Then again by surprise, I roughly grab a handful of your beautiful brown locks and turn your face toward me. Your gasp of surprise parts your lips and, pulling hard on your nipple to guide you, I force my cock quickly past your lips and thrust it to the back of your throat.

"Suck it clean," I hiss. With one hand in your hair and the other clamped on your nipple I pull you back and forth on my shaft as you compliantly wash your sensual nectar from my cock with your talented lips and tongue.

I want so much to bathe the back of your throat with my gushing, pent-up desire, but I do not. There is much left to do, and you seem too close to orgasm yourself. I withdraw, leaving both of us panting with unquenched need, and carefully zip my still-hard rod back into my slacks. Again standing behind you I require you to close your legs, still bent with your hands against the wall. As you comply I push your panties down to your ankles and make you step out of them.

The sight of your perfect naked backside presented to me this way atop shapely stocking covered legs and sexy sling back heels is almost too much to bear. I nearly discard all my carefully made plans to kneel down behind you and thrust my tongue into your tight rear hole until you crash in a screaming anal orgasm. Nearly. But I bite my lip again and somehow resist.

"Stand up," I command and you smartly obey. "Next to your dress on the coat rack is a lab coat. Put it on, button it." You follow my instructions quietly, with a barely audible sigh of desire. The white coat has a vee neck. When buttoned your ample cleavage is seductively displayed. And the coat is almost too short to cover your stocking tops as you stand motionless.

"Spin around," I require, as I sit back down in my large leather chair and admire you while I gingerly try to arrange my still throbbing member in my pants. "Excellent. Gorgeous."

"Walk toward me." You take two steps to close the distance and as you do, the front of the lab coat parts just enough to clearly display the stocking tops, and even expose a bit of naked, tan flesh at the top.

I stand again, only inches from you, and look down into your deep, dark eyes. Softly I whisper, "Oh my god, Silvia. Do you realize you are the perfect woman?" Before you can answer I lovingly bend down, wrap my strong arms around you and kiss you passionately. You melt into me, and for a few moments, time stops. Reluctantly we break the kiss, and with a wicked grin I step toward the door and say, "Okay, let's get to class."

I lead you down the crowded hall. Between classes the hallways fill up with students, some of them sitting on the floors waiting for their class period to start, since there are no chairs and few common areas in which to wait. You become conscious of the eyes of the students gazing at you, trying to catch a glimpse up your lab coat as you step over their outstretched legs. At first you try to hold the hem of the too short lab coat down, but after stepping over a couple of young men who audibly caught their breath as you passed, you decide to throw caution to the wind. By the time we reached our classroom, you are stepping over outstretched limbs in a way that intentionally flashes, your naked pussy to the young men and women gazing up at you from below.

The classroom is empty and dark when we arrive, the shades drawn and the fluorescent lights dimmed. It's a small teaching auditorium, with five, tiered, semicircular rows of chairs affixed to a single common table that arcs around connecting each tier. The room looks like it will hold about fifty students. In the center of the room is a sturdy wooden table with a cushioned leather top. The table is currently flat, but it looks to you from the shape of the surface and the various struts and braces underneath as though it might divide in the middle, or maybe it's capable of being raised and lowered somehow. All the seats in the room face this table. Behind it is a teaching podium, with a built in computer. Behind that, there is a large projection screen and whiteboards against the front wall.

It sends a little thrill through you, thinking about what might go on in this room, as I escort you to the back of the middle row, the highest tier of seats, and ask you to sit down. You do as I say, turning the swiveling chair toward me and instinctively crossing your legs.

I glance at my watch impatiently. There isn't much time until the students arrive, so I place your bag on the table next to you and unzip it, removing your masquerade mask and handing it to you. I lean over and whisper urgently, "Put the mask on. Face the podium and put both feet on the floor a few inches apart, knees together. Hands on the table, palms down." You do as you're told, turning sideways to me.

I take a step back and admire your lovely profile, noticing that every time you inhale your cleavage becomes more pronounced in the too tight lab coat. "As each student comes into the room, I need you to spread your legs a little farther. By the time the last student enters, I want your legs spread wide. Can you do that for me, Silvia?" My tone is warm and tender, but at the same time it's clear that I won't take 'no' for an answer.

"Yes, Charles," you say with a subtle grin as I pick up your bag and walk to the front of the room, stowing it under the podium.

"Oh, that reminds me ... call me Dr. Adam here in the classroom, or Professor." The height of the back tier of seats is perfect for me, eye-level with your hips. The same will be true of anyone else entering the classroom.

"Undo the bottom button of the lab coat, Silvia." You do as I command, noticing that the loosened fabric already reveals your stocking tops, and that's with your knees together. "Now roll your hips back a little in the chair. Perfect."

You shiver with anticipation, knowing that following my command will leave your delicious femininity completely exposed to the gaze of every one of my students. You feel the heat of your own sex as your lips become engorged and wet. It suddenly dawns on you that I wasn't just teasing you back in my office; I was positioning your delicate flower for maximum revelation.

"The students should be arriving soon." I say over my shoulder while writing "Ms. Silvia, Research Assistant" on the board in large block letters. The first slide of the presentation flickers to light on the projector screen: "Feminine Sexual Power and Submission in Modern Society." Almost on cue, two young men enter the room together, conversing about last night's game. As soon as they lay eyes upon you their conversation stops, and they stand mute in the doorway gazing in unabashed wonder. You very slowly begin to part your legs, as I have commanded.

"Please take your seats, gentlemen. We have a lot to do today." The two students grunt in acknowledgement without ever looking away. Their eyes are locked on your legs now, and one of them nearly trips on the steps as they rapidly try to calculate which seats will give them the best viewing angle. They choose seats near the front of the room on a lower tier so that they can continue to watch.

As more students enter the room, all young men in their late teens or early twenties, this same basic scene is repeated again and again. Each time another man enters the room, he transforms from a carefree student to a transfixed subject to your womanly power. Each time I have to encourage him to take his seat, and each time you open your legs a little bit wider, ensuring the continued attention of every man in the room.