The Hot Professors Part 1
How far will Tamara go to improve her grade?
She desperately needs a scholarship to pay for medical school, and only one student can get a full ride. Her professor is so hot. It wouldn’t be a hardship to play his game.
Of course, she doesn’t know how far the professor will go once the deal is made.
She’s about to find out.
My outfit caused more than a few whistles as I walked across the campus of the mid-sized Southern college I attended.
Green and blue plaid pleated skirt. Short, of course, but it did cover my butt. Which was necessary since I wasn’t wearing panties. My white cotton top was a tease, with long sleeves and a crew neck that didn’t allow even a hint of cleavage. That was necessary because girls of the age I was impersonating didn’t have cleavage. A pair of knee high white nylon socks, and black Mary Jane shoes completed my ensemble.
One cute guy had even flashed me a broad grin, and called out, “Who’s the lucky prof?”
Ha! Little did he know. I’d merely swiveled my hips so the pleats snapped in the sunshine of a warm Indian summer day.
But when I saw Connor Harrington lounging against the steps of the student center, surrounded by the usual bevy of long-haired co-eds, my brash strut faltered.
He was my sworn enemy, the one student on campus I hated. I hated him for a very simple reason – he was my most formidable competitor for the generous scholarship I needed to win so that I could attend medical school when I graduated in the spring.
Despite his active social life and his position as a star forward on the Varsity soccer team, Connor was an excellent student. Worse yet, his grade point average right now was a tiny bit higher than mine.
My hatred of him had nothing to do with the fact that he’d dumped me freshman year. I’d long since gotten over that.
“Hey,” my nemesis called out. “Shouldn’t you be studying ‘Women in Love’ right now?”
I growled silently at the mention of the D. H. Lawrence novel that had caused my English grade to drop a bit.
“You might even pick up a few tips,” Connor added, grinning when I turned my head to scowl at him.
“Why are you so concerned with technique, Harrington?” I called back. “Been receiving complaints, have you?”
He stood suddenly and loped with his usual athletic elegance in my direction. I was suddenly aware of the sharp scent of drying autumn leaves, and the radiance of the brilliant afternoon sunshine.
“My ladies don’t complain,” he said, coming to a stop in front of me. I didn’t want to look up at him, because his height gave him an advantage over me. But I couldn’t stand here staring at his broad chest, could I?
I raised my eyes to meet his, my heart fluttering stupidly when I saw the blue flame blazing in his. No matter when I saw him, in class, in the library, or just around campus like this, I had the same overheated reaction.
It annoyed me no end, even as electricity arced up my spine and down between my legs.
“A nice breeze lifted your skirt a moment ago,” he continued in a soft voice, which was somehow still deep and authoritative. “And I was treated to a too-brief view of your delicious, panty-less ass. Which makes me wonder what you’re up to on this fine afternoon.” His gaze skimmed me, down and up. “You wouldn’t be trying out the time-honored technique of screwing your prof for a better grade, would you?”
“You are not allowed to talk about my ass,” I snapped. I hated him, but I also feared him. He stood between me and my dream of becoming a doctor. And he was a true threat. Nature had gifted him with physical male beauty, a strong, athletic body, and, to top it all off, a brilliant intellect.
Meanwhile, his gaze had hardened at my words and was currently flaying me like a whip, which was disturbing. I couldn’t afford to have any reaction to Connor Harrington. But his stern demeanor caused some unwanted quivering deep inside my body.
“You,” he said, the words bit off like bullets, “are not allowed to tell me what I can and cannot talk about.”
I deliberately stiffened my back. We’d see who was on top once I visited my English professor this afternoon. Like Connor, I aced my math and science courses. I didn’t exactly have trouble with the required Humanities courses, but they weren’t my strong suit.
Analyzing and parsing wordy literature did not excite me.
But I’d figured out something that did, and a solution to the grade war battle hovered tantalizingly within my reach.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t afford to be late. My English professor, Dr. Amberlin, had had a certain look in his eyes when he made the appointment with me that indicated he would not take any deviation from his wishes lightly.
With another flip of my skirt, I turned away from Connor and scampered off. If he got another too-brief view of my naked ass, well, he could stew about that. I owed him plenty for the way he’d treated me when we were freshmen.
Now I stood facing the lucky prof that Connor had so rightly quizzed me about as I crossed campus. Dr. Amberlin eyed my outfit. I’d chosen it carefully for this meeting. A girl who wanted to improve her grade had to be smart.
The university had a benefactor, Samuel Leonard, who awarded one scholarship each year to the senior with the highest GPA. And the best part about it was the scholarship covered four years of free tuition at medical school. It would save me hundreds of thousands of dollars if I won it.
No, when I won it.
I had to do whatever it took to have the highest GPA in the senior class.
“I hope you like it, Professor.” I stood very straight in front of his desk, with my feet and knees together, like a little girl. My long brown hair was also braided like a girl’s, in two long plaits tied with blue ribbons.
“It’s your behavior I need to like,” he said with a warning frown. “As I told you when you approached me about improving your grade, you will need to be punished for not working hard enough in class to earn the grade you wanted.”
“Yes.” I looked down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze when I knew he wanted me subservient. “I understand.”
“Excellent.” He strode around his desk while I enjoyed the picture he made. His chestnut brown hair swept back from his high forehead, falling to almost touch the subtly patterned blazer he wore over a white oxford shirt and a gray, v-neck cashmere sweater. His brown eyes and tanned skin were as warm as a crisp autumn day.
As he leaned back against the front of his desk, facing me, he said, “Please use my full name and title when addressing me.”
My eyes widened at the unexpected comment, but I said, “Yes, Dr. Amberlin.”
“Good.” He rested his hands against the desk on either side of his thighs. “I don’t like your shirt. Remove it.”
This was it, the moment I’d been both fearing and anticipating ever since I’d approached the professor to ask if there was something I could do to earn a higher grade in his class. He’d paused for a long moment, his golden brown eyes thoughtfully contemplating me.
“Do you know what you’re asking, Tamara?” he’d said.
I’d nodded, my mouth too dry to form words.
“Then come to my office Friday afternoon, at 3 pm.” He’d paused, and then captured my gaze to make sure I understood what he was saying. “Wear a schoolgirl outfit. No panties.”
I’d broken his gaze as my heart thumped.
The words were out there, the sexual intent clear.
Now that the actual moment had arrived, reality had my entire body buzzing. The professor was looking stern, but also pleased, like a cat who’d trapped a mouse and was toying with it. His narrow gray trousers did nothing to hide the erection that was front and center due to his position leaning casually against his desk.
He looked every inch the successful professor that he was, a tenured faculty member who commanded respect across the campus.
Of course, right now, he was commanding only me.
He raised his brows at my hesitation. “Nervous?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“Excellent.” He smiled, and twirled a hand in the air, indicating I should get on with it.
I reached for the hem of my shirt, and slowly raised it over my head. Professor Amberlin was staring when I finally dropped the shirt and looked at him again.
Under the shirt was a plain white cotton training bra, the kind a thirteen year old might wear. His gaze flicked down to it. Of course my boobs overflowed out of the top of the bra, since I was too well endowed for a training bra, but it looked like he was enjoying that view.
“I see you’re growing tits,” he said. “I want to handle them, so that childish bra has to go.”
I reached behind my back to unclasp the hooks, moving as slowly as I dared. Partly I wanted to tease him, but partly I feared what was coming next.
“Lovely,” he said, when I’d finally dropped the bra. “Approach me until you’re close enough that I can play with your tits.”
So I had to walk toward him and basically offer myself up to him, as he spread his legs. I stopped between his thighs, when I was close enough to smell the faint scent of his warm skin, like sugared coffee.
His hands closed over my breasts, and he held them for a moment. Then his fingers moved, stroking over my nipples, palming me, drawing my nipples out tightly. For long moments we stood thus, him leaning against his desk, me standing in front of him, between his spread legs.
My breath became more labored as pleasure built within me. His hands were clever, and his eyes watchful and knowing on me.
“You seem to be enjoying this,” he said, favoring both nipples with a sharp pinch.
I let out a soft moan, but otherwise remained silent, not knowing what to say. I knew a punishment should not be enjoyed.
He pinched me again, harder. “Answer, little girl.”
“Yes, Professor Amberlin.”
He slapped each breast lightly, just enough to make the nipple sting. The sound of flesh striking flesh was loud in the quiet office. “Well, this isn’t supposed to be about your pleasure, so let’s get on with what you came for.”
He stood up, and then grinned at his unintended double-entendre, his teeth flashing whitely at me. “Not that you have come, I understand that. Well, who knows what the day will bring?”
He walked back around his desk, opened the drawer over the kneehole, and took out an old fashioned wooden ruler. I sucked in a sharp breath of fear-tinged reality.
“That’s a ruler from, like, a one-room schoolhouse, Dr. Amberlin.” I eyed it with true trepidation. The thick wooden length was marked with solid black lines and numbers that looked fierce enough to imprint themselves on my tender flesh.
“I want to be sure you feel your punishment.” He tapped it lightly against his hand. “And I think you will.”
He put the ruler down, took off his blazer, and rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and his cotton broadcloth shirt to halfway up his forearms. “I used to be a rower, back in my college days. Did you know that?”
“No, Dr. Amberlin.” Dread was pooling in my stomach. He was a very smart man. I knew he was toying with me deliberately, to heighten my fear, which would then intensify the experience I was about to undergo.
He picked up the ruler again. “I’m still pretty strong, and I have a good sense of rhythm. I think this will be an excellent learning experience for you.” He winked at me. “Since you didn’t want to learn my course material perfectly.”
Oh, he was enjoying himself too much. His pants were still tented quite impressively by his erection.
“Yes, Dr. Amberlin.”
He walked back around the massive desk until he was standing next to the front of the desk, about two feet away from me. “I want you,” he said, “to approach the desk, and lean over it. Put your head against the desktop, and face me. Keep your hands at your sides.”
My throat was still too dry to allow speech, but I walked toward the desk and bent over it, feeling the cool wood surface against my hot cheek.
“Excellent.” He looked down at me. “Now lift your skirt so your ass is exposed.”
I obeyed, the wool of my pleated skirt scratching my hands.
I heard him suck in a breath. “Points for not wearing panties,” he said. “You are a delightful girl.”
The praise warmed me, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t going to eliminate my punishment.
He struck down suddenly, so quickly that I couldn’t prepare, and the hard wood stung my ass with a sharp, bright pain.
I cried out.
He struck my right cheek, then my left, and then across the center of my ass, all in rapid succession. I cried out with each blow, and his eyes were on my face, watching me.
He paused for a moment, but only to say, “Are you learning your lesson?”
“Yes, Professor Amber—“
Before I could finish his name, he snapped the ruler down on me again, and I shrieked.
Three more strikes in quick succession, each punctuated by one of my cries. And my cries got louder as his blows got harder.
“Are you enjoying this, Tamara?” He loomed over me, his face flushed, either with effort or with arousal, I didn’t know which.
Tears were rolling down my cheeks. “No, Professor Amberlin. It hurts,” I sobbed out.
Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.
“I’m enjoying it.” His voice was hoarse, and his breath panted out of his parted lips. “You have the most delicious ass, and it’s getting redder and redder.”
Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.
“Do you think you’ll study harder next time?”
“Yes, Dr. Amberlin, I will.” I was trying to writhe away from him, so he placed a heavy hand on my lower back.
“Don’t move,” he snapped, “or I’ll double your punishment.”
Bam. Bam. Bam. The blows fell too quickly for me to monitor now, as a wildfire bloomed in my ass and spread its burn down through every part of my crotch.
Yes, my pussy was all on fire. And not with pain.
The pain somehow lit the arousal to a pitch I’d never felt before.
Three fast blows fell on the center of my ass.
And then he stopped.
Even over the sound of my moaning sobs, I could hear him breathing harshly. But my eyes were closed, and I didn’t know what he was doing. Was he done? Taking a break? Winding up for even harder blows? My thoughts blew dizzily around my brain, chased hither and yon by the louder demands of my pussy and my ass, one to be stimulated, one to be soothed.
“Open your eyes.” The deep, hoarse voice pierced my fog even as his hand came to rest on my butt, which he began to massage. He spread the pain all over my ass, but his hard hands felt good on me.
“You took your punishment very well,” he said, leaning over me to speak in a low, ragged voice. “Now I’m going to make you feel better. But you mustn’t complain, no matter what I do.” His fingers pushed down the cleft of my ass until he reached the dripping wet opening of my pussy. “I’d hate to have to punish you some more.”
“Yes, Dr. Amberlin.” I could barely get the words out as my brain focused entirely on his clever fingers, pushing, probing, wriggling further inside me. He pulled out and made one quick pass over my clit, just to tantalize me.
I moaned, the sound adding to the heat in the room.
Oh, I didn’t want to press my butt against that wooden desk. But disobeying was not an option. I couldn’t take more spanking. I rolled over, groaning at the heat of my sore ass against the hard surface.
“No hair yet.” Professor Amberlin’s eyes burned with lust as he stared at my newly shaved pussy. “Excellent.” He passed a gentle hand over the surface of my pussy. “Spread your legs wider. I want to examine you.”
I did, wincing as the movement pressed my sore butt nerves against the desk.
His fingers delved downward, until he had two fingers pushed inside me again. He spread the fingers and cool air rushed across my heated flesh.
“Do you know what I’m going to do to you here?” He wiggled his fingers inside my pussy.
“I’m not sure, Dr. Amberlin.”
“I’m going to shove my cock in here.” His fingers pushed further inside me. “And since you have a small slit, you are really going to feel it.”
“Yes, Professor Amberlin.”
“And if you don’t feel it, and don’t let me know how much you’re enjoying what I do to you, why then”—he stopped to gaze into my eyes as he drew a finger slowly out of me and up over my clit—“why then, I’d have to punish you again.”
I couldn’t breathe as his fingers toyed with my clit. I was already so close to orgasm my entire body was tense, arched in a bow. The bowing pressed my ass against the wood, heightening my pain there, but it was almost overridden by the pleasure of his fingers.
Lightly, lightly, he brushed his long fingers over me again and again until my hips began to push up, reaching for more stimulation.
He laughed, removing his hands entirely from my body. “I really like this view of you, Tamara, naked and yearning.”
My skirt was bunched up around my waist, my blouse on the floor, and my knee-high socks and childish shoes a contrast, I could only imagine, to everything else that was on view.
My professor was still fully dressed.
He drew off his sweater and then began to unbutton his shirt.
My eyes were glued to him as his naked chest was gradually revealed. His chest was tan, hairless and broad. I continued to watch as his hands moved to his belt, yanked it open, and let it dangle as he unbuttoned his pants.
The sound of his zipper ripped through the silence.
He watched me as he slowly pushed down his pants and boxers. His hard cock sprang free.
“Is this what you want?” He lightly stroked himself.
“Yes, Dr. Amberlin,” I breathed out.
“You’re not afraid?” He continued stroking.
“I am, a little bit.” I’d suddenly remembered the fantasy I was enacting here.
“Good.” He leaned over, pushing his hips between mine. The tip of his penis touched me, and my hips reached forward involuntarily.
“Such an inpatient little girl.” He held himself just out of my reach, and began pinching my nipples again.
My entire body tightened into one arched bow, craving what he held just out of reach.
So I ran my hands up and down his back, using my nails to scratch him hard. He groaned, and shuddered.
He began panting.
I moved down to his ass, which I could just barely reach. I clawed him.
Suddenly he shoved into me, hard, and instantly began pumping. “When I’ve fucked all your brains out,” he growled at me, “I’ll have to give you a better grade to make it up to you.”
“Thank you, Dr. Amberlin,” I managed.
“You’ve got a lot of brains.” He stared down at me, sweat forming on his face. “This could take a long time.”
“I’m sure you’re up to the task.” I arched my back hard enough to hurt, as he shifted higher up on me, and I was lost.
A long, loud orgasm pealed through me. The professor continued pounding me through it until he stiffened, and let go with a series of deep groans.
When he finished, he dropped his head down to the desk as his body settled atop me. For long minutes, we lay there, still entwined. I didn’t want to move, and it seemed he didn’t either. Finally, he raised his head. “You’re about halfway to the grade you want,” he said, his lips twitching with a small smile. “I think another session would be appropriate.”
Shock widened my eyes. I thought we’d agreed to one session. But my body was still thrumming with pleasure.
So I nodded.
“I would bring clamps,” he said.
My mouth dropped open.
He laughed. “It’s your choice.”
I already had an A in his course.
But I wanted an A+.