5 comments/ 93198 views/ 42 favorites Samantha's Final Submission By: SexySpanker Author's Note: This story is a continuation of my story "Samantha Comes to Office Hours," but can be enjoyed on its own as well. * For a long time after the incident in the office, I didn't hear anything from Samantha. I was quite relieved on the one hand; I didn't have to worry about my boss, Sophie Bettencourt, nosing about and catching us. But on the other hand I had never been as turned on before as when I was with her. I still wasn't sure how much Sophie knew about our relationship. Luckily I had work to distract me. Piles of papers to grade and articles to write. My tenure book manuscript came back from the publisher with a provisional acceptance. It looked like I would be able to keep my job after all. The winter holidays came and went, and spring semester was about to begin. One morning while I was checking my e-mail right before heading into the office to prepare for the semester I got an e-mail from Samantha H. The subject line said "miss me?" There was a short note: "Dear Prof. Carver," it read, "I hope you'll forgive me for being such a tease and not contacting you for so long. Just kidding, I hope you won't forgive me -- not until you've punished me, that is! I've been a very naughty girl in the past few months. I'm going to tell you all about it. I have pictures too. But first I'm going to make you suffer a little bit, so that you'll be that much more excited to see me when I finally come to visit you!" There was no signature, but there was a picture attachment, a self-portrait of Samantha in the mirror, dressed in a schoolgirl uniform and pigtails and smiling coquettishly at the camera with two fingers in her mouth. I responded with my personal e-mail account. I didn't want any of this getting back to the university. "You naughty girl," I wrote, "I'm going to take you over my lap and give you the spanking of a lifetime." I sent the e-mail and went back to work. A few days later, I got a response. It was a picture of a young woman in conservative white cotton panties bent over a chair. A yellow plaid skirt was bunched up around the small of her back and the tops of white stockings were barely visible. The distinctive tattoo on her back let me know it was Samantha. There was a single line of text: "Is this what you'd like to spank, Prof. ;-)?" "Yes you little slut. Why don't you tell me what naughty things you've been up to?" I pressed send. The next day at work, Sophie knocked on my office door. "Alec," she said, "do you remember that student who was sending you suggestive e-mails?" "Um," I said, trying to be nonchalant, "Samantha, wasn't it?" "That's the one," she said, "I saw her the other night -- coming out of the department hallway. There wouldn't be anything going on between you two would there?" "No," I said as casually as possible, "I haven't seen her since you moved her out of my class. And besides, I worked at home last night." "I see," said Sophie, eyeing me suspiciously, "just don't let me hear any more rumors about the two of you -- it doesn't reflect well on you as a colleague. We don't need any liabilities around here. We have enough to worry about with the budget cuts!" "I can't do anything about rumors," I snapped. "Every rumor has a grain of truth to it, doesn't it?" "That doesn't make it true," I said, turning back to my computer and typing angrily. "Relax, Alec," she said, "I'm not accusing you of anything. Yet." She closed the door behind her and walked down the hall. Just then a message appeared in my inbox. From Samantha. It was another self-shot portrait. This time she was bent over an office desk, wholly without panties, her beautiful young ass turned up and her pussy peaking out from between her legs. She looked back over her shoulder at the camera with a surprised look on her face, as if she'd just been spanked. Then I saw the text of the e-mail. "Look in your left-hand desk drawer," it read. I opened the drawer and reached inside. To my surprise, a pair of women's panties lay next to my stapler. I fished them out and dropped them on the desk in front of me. They were damp. The smell of sex tickled my nostrils as I stared at them in shock. I knew the aroma all too well -- from my office as well as from the stairway where I had spanked her with my belt. It was Samantha's. I grabbed the panties and shoved them into my coat pocket, then began to compose a strongly-worded e-mail to Samantha. "Look," I wrote, without a salutation, "that trick with the panties crossed the line. My boss was just in here, and if she had seen me with those things it would have meant, at best, that I would be branded as a pervert for the rest of my career, at worst I could have lost my job for sexual harassment. I think your games are cute and all, but you have to understand that my job is at stake. If you'd like to continue to play, I suggest we just meet somewhere and get it out of our systems so I can keep my job." Just as I was about to press send, there was a knock at my door. It was Lisa, one of my rather needy students. "Just a second, Lisa!" I said, clicking send. Then I rotated in my chair away from the computer screen to face her. "What can I help you with?" "Well," she began, taking a seat across the desk from me, "I thought you could answer a few questions for me." "Sure," I said. She pulled out a list of grammar questions, and we began to work through them. As I bent forward over the desk, my computer screen was visible over my shoulder. After a few minutes, I noticed Lisa's eyes wander somewhere behind me. Suddenly her face contorted and she began to stare. "Lisa," I said, "you seem distracted. Do you want to come back some other time?" "Yes," she said, as if in a trance, "I think maybe there's a better time for this." Blushing deeply, she collected her papers without looking at me, shoved them into her folder and scrambled out the door. I began to piece together what had happened, and I spun in my chair to face my computer. A large photograph of a shaved female pubis filled the screen. Written on the skin in what appeared to be black marker were the words "Property of Prof. Carver." A lump formed in my throat as I quickly closed the mail window. I had my e-mail program set to pop-up messages automatically so I could answer the most urgent ones as soon as they came in. Samantha must have sent the e-mail while I had been talking to Lisa! I was furious. "Listen you little slut," I wrote, "you've gone too far this time. I'm not only going to spank you the next time I get my hands on you, I'm going to whip you so hard you won't sit right for weeks. You're a little brat who can't take no for an answer and you need to be taught some manners. Expect to be disciplined. --Professor Carver." It was not until just after I sent the mail that I realized that I was once again playing right into Samantha's hands. She was trying to provoke me so that I would punish her, and it was working. I sat at my desk for a minute or so, fingering the panties in the pocket of my coat. Visions of being brought up on sexual harassment charges flashed through my mind. After all, there were grounds! There had been a large picture of a pussy with my name on it on my computer screen during my office hours. How did Lisa know I didn't put it there on purpose as some kind of sick come-on? She didn't -- and she had every right to be offended. After all, she'd heard rumors about Samantha and I already. I had to clear my head. I left my office and went into the bathroom. I was hot. Feverish. I thought about everything I'd worked for all my life disappearing because I had surrendered to temptation and crossed the line with a student. I took off my coat and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. I leaned on the sink and splashed water on my face, trying to cool the burning frustration and anger that was building inside me. I thought about going to try to find Lisa and explain things to her. Maybe I could tell her that I was being sexually harassed myself. Then I tried to imagine the embarrassing situation that would result from trying to broach the subject of a huge shaved pussy on my computer screen with an undergrad student. There was no good way to go about it. I resolved never to answer another of Samantha's e-mails, and to ignore any more attempts that she made to get in contact with me. Even as I made that resolution to myself, I remembered fucking her over my desk, pulling her hair, manhandling her. I felt myself becoming aroused. "Damn it!" I said out loud, smacking a fist on the sink. "What's the matter? Did you think you'd lost these?" asked Prof. Jacques Fournier, suddenly standing behind me and holding out Samantha's panties, which had fallen out of my coat pocket. "What? I --" He clicked his tongue. "No need to explain! I know how hard it is to resist. Just make sure you don't get caught, old boy!" He stuffed the panties into my front shirt pocket and patted me on the back before heading into a stall. "Rule number one," he said from behind the door, "don't shit where you sleep. No fucking current students! But if you do, don't get caught!" I collected my coat and pushed my way out the door and back into the hallway, desperate to escape. As I walked briskly down the hallway back to my office, I passed Sophie. She smiled at me faintly. I wondered if she could tell that the bulge in my shirt pocket was a pair of woman's panties. After all I had been through that morning I almost didn't care anymore. For the next few days, I had no contact with Samantha. I had to admit, I was a little disappointed. After all, it was incredibly arousing never knowing what kind of dirty thing she would think of next. At the same time, it was a relief that I didn't have to constantly be on my toes around the office, terrified that she'd endanger my career with one of her provocations. I also changed the settings on my e-mail to prevent future mishaps like the one with Lisa. The weekend came and went without event. I worked from home on some articles and continued to revise my book manuscript. I lived in terror at the idea of an e-mail from the dean, telling me that I was being accused of sexual harassment. On Monday morning I checked my desk drawers, just in case Samantha had paid me another visit. Nothing. Once again, I had to admit to being a little bit disappointed. Even though I didn't want Samantha to ruin my life, I was still incredibly attracted to her. I secretly hoped that we could repeat our encounter in my office, and that the next time I could follow through on my threat to fuck her in the ass. But Samantha seemed to have dropped off the map. For the next month and a half, I heard nothing -- either from Samantha or from Lisa, who had probably decided that, while I was a creepy old guy, it wasn't worth the trouble to report me. One morning, Sophie stepped into my office and closed the door. "I've got some interesting news for you," she said, smiling. "Oh?" "Your tenure portfolio has been approved by the department. We just decided. Congratulations." She shook my hand. "There's only one final step: the Board of Regents. But in your case that's a formality." "Thank you!" I said, moving my chair back and getting ready to stand. "No, thank you. You've done quite a job here," said Sophie, turning to leave, "you deserve it!" I couldn't believe it. When the next school year started, my career would be secure. I would be promoted to associate professor! I decided to host a party to celebrate. I invited all the faculty of the French Department, as well as various friends from around the university. The celebration was set for the Friday after classes were over, so I knew I could count on having a large turnout. After all, students aren't the only ones looking forward to the end of the semester! Each day, I worked on getting my house ready for the guests. Since my job left me with little free time, I had to use of the time that I had to myself for cleaning up and planing. I decided on an appetizer buffet and self-serve cocktail bar. The night before the party I barely slept. Not only did I have a stack of papers to grade and return to my students the next day, but I had to prepare the appetizers as well. Around 11pm I checked my e-mail, partially hoping to see something form Samantha. There was nothing. However, a few minutes later, I got a message from a member of the Board of Regents. My tenure had been approved! Even though it was a mere formality, I was still relieved. I exhaled deeply, happy that I could finally relax a bit, even though I'd still have to keep up my same level of teaching and scholarship if I wanted to make full professor. The party tomorrow night was going to be lots of fun. The next morning, I went to the department early, whistling a tune as I walked down the hall. "Congrats!" called Prof. Fournier. "Thanks!" I said. When I fired up my office computer, there were several e-mails with subject lines like "Congratulations," etc. I quickly clicked through them until I hit upon one that said "Hi Professor! I heard the good news, and can't wait to congratulate you in person ;-)." It was from Samantha, of course. I wondered how she'd found out about my tenure so quickly -- after all, I'd only learned last night! I fired back a quick response: "Thanks, but I still intend to deal with your inappropriate behavior in the strictest way possible young lady. I'll let you know when and where." The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I left early, around 2:00PM, to buy the drinks and prepare the house for the big event. By 4:30, just before the guests were scheduled to arrive, I had the bar set up and the appetizers in place. I decided to mix myself a drink. I settled on a dry martini. Why not? After all, it was the last day of classes and I had just gotten tenure! Just after I finished shaking the martini, but before I could pour it into the glass, the doorbell rang. I looked at my watch. It was only 4:35. Who could have arrived so early? I left the shaker on the table and went to the front door, opening it to find Samantha in a very short cocktail dress, a big smile on her face. I took in the long-awaited sight for a moment. "Hi professor," she said, "you don't mind if I come in do you?" Before I could say anything, she had pushed her way inside and shut the door behind her. She got on her knees and looked up at me with her big, innocent eyes. "Can I suck your cock, professor? Please? I promise to be a good girl!" I was too turned on to say no, but panicked at the same time. Other guests might arrive at any minute! She reached up and unbuttoned my pants, then pulled down the zipper and grabbed my erection through my underwear. "So big, professor!" "You little slut," I whispered, "what am I going to do with you?" "I think you know what to do with me," she said, "and I know what to do with this." She pulled my boxer briefs down and took my cock into her mouth. I grabbed the back of her head and began to fuck her face. The guests would be there in just a few minutes. I'd have to get rid of her before then. But first I was going to enjoy myself. "Take this cock you slut," I groaned, marveling at how such a petite woman was able to take me all the way down her throat. "I know you loved being used like this," I said, pulling my cock out of her mouth and slapping it against her cheek. "Oh yes, professor," she gasped. I slapped her face with my cock again and she began to lick my balls. I shoved my cock back into her mouth and began to face-fuck her even faster. "I'm going to come all over that pretty little face," I told her, forcing my cock into her throat. "Mmm hmm," she groaned enthusiastically. I could feel my orgasm building. I pulled my cock out and stroked it with one had while I held Samantha's head firmly in place by the hair. "Oh yes, professor." I shot a gigantic load into her mouth and all over her face, hair and dress. She licked my cock clean and smiled up at me. "You messed up your pants." I looked down. My pants were covered in cum as well! I'd have to change them. I pulled up my trousers and zipped them, then grabbed Samantha by her hair and began to lead her upstairs. My cum still marked her face. "Mmm, professor, you taste so good! Are you taking me to your bedroom?" "Yes," I said, opening the bedroom door, "I'm having some guests in a few minutes and don't want to be disturbed. You're going to wait up here for a while." "Do I have to professor?" asked Samantha coquettishly, "I promise to be good." "I'm not so convinced of that, after your recent behavior," I said, sitting on a wooden-backed chair and pulling her over my lap, "I'm going to give you a taste of what's waiting for you later." Her cocktail dress left little to the imagination as it was, and once she was over my lap, I had a wonderful view of her bottom. "I can tell it's been too long since you've had a proper spanking, young lady." "Do you think so professor?" "'I know so. What kind of girl," I began, rubbing her beautiful buttocks sensually, "would find herself ass-up over an older man's lap, with his cum dripping off her face?" "I don't know," she purred, clearly enjoying my caresses. "A dirty whore," I said, smacking her ass hard with my open hand. "Ouch!" she squealed. "No use in protesting," I said, "you've had this coming a long time." SMACK! I landed another spank on her tight young ass. I wanted to take the time to warm her bottom properly, but I had guests who would be arriving at any minute, and a party to host. SMACK! She squealed again. "Professor," she said, "didn't I do a good job sucking your cock?" "Yes," I said, "but that doesn't get you out of your punishment." SMACK! I smacked her a forth time, leaving a satisfying handprint across her backside. That was all I had time for now. The rest would have to wait. But first I reached down and felt between her legs, under her panties. It was just as I suspected: she was dripping wet. I pushed her out of my lap, then picked her up and placed her in the chair I had just been seated in. Before she could resist, I reached behind me to my nightstand and produced a pair of padded handcuffs that I'd placed there for exactly this eventuality. I secured her hands behind her back, then reached under her dress and pulled off her panties. "What are you doing, professor?" "I'm going to make sure you don't disturb the party," I said, stuffing the panties in her mouth. Then I picked her up, chair and all, and placed her in the large walk-in closet. "You'll have to stay in here for a while and think about what a bad girl you've been," I said, grabbing a clean pair of pants from the rack and then closing the folding doors. After I changed, I turned out the lights in the bedroom went back downstairs to await the guests. I could hear Samantha moaning into her own panties, tortured by the anticipation of having to wait for the rest of her punishment. The ice had melted in the cocktail shaker, diluting the martini. I poured it out and started over. As I took the first sip of my hard-earned drink, I noticed a streak of cum on the wall near the door! I scrambled for a rag and cleaning supplies in the kitchen. Just as I had finished wiping up the last of the cum and looking for other stray stains, the doorbell rang and the first guests arrived. Kathleen, a colleague from the German department, laughed when she saw the bottle of cleaner in my hand. "Running a little late, Alec?" I laughed, trying to be nonchalant. "Yes," I said, "Come in." Soon, the party was in full swing. Professors and their spouses swarmed the mini-bar, hungrily devouring snacks and drinks. Samantha's Final Submission Sophie was in particularly high spirits. In less than twenty minutes, she had guzzled down the first two drinks I'd made for her. It must have been a tough semester for her as well. "Great party," she said, swaying slightly, "where's the bathroom?" I pointed her in the direction of the bathroom off the kitchen. "Congratulations," said Kathleen, joining us, "and what a nice house!" "By the way," she added, after Sophie had wandered off, "there was a young woman asking about you in our department today." "Oh?" "A former grad student of yours." A chill ran down my spine. "Named?" "Oh I don't know," said the older professor, "something with an 'S'." "Samantha?" "That's it!" she said, snapping her fingers in recognition. "What did she want?" "She said you'd invited her to the party tonight, but that she'd forgotten the address. I told her that I couldn't give out your address and that she'd have to talk to you herself." "I didn't invite her," I stammered. "I figured," said Kathleen, "let me guess -- she wanted to do a little 'extra credit' with her handsome young professor?" "Something like that probably," I muttered, "but I made it clear that her behavior was inappropriate." "Good for you." She walked off in search of the appetizers. Sophie reappeared less than a minute later. "Alec," she said, smiling in a way I'd never seen her do before, "I really have to go, but the bathroom downstairs is occupied. Do you have another one I could use? Surely there's one upstairs..." I tried not to panic. The only other bathroom in the house was off of the master bedroom, where Samantha was currently restrained behind the louvered doors of the walk-in closet. "Um," I started. "Thanks!" she said, and turned to climb the stairs. "Wait!" I called, grabbing her by the shoulder, "the bathroom's not -- it's not clean!" "I don't mind." She started walking up the stairs. "I mean," I started again, "the toilet's not working. It overflows every time I flush." "Probably a problem with the tank. Let me take a look at it, I've fixed dozens," she said, unfazed. "It's just that I'd rather do it myself, after the party." Just then, Kathleen returned. "Are we going on a tour?" she asked when she saw the two of us on the stairs. "What a great idea!" Sophie giggled like a girl, "you're not hiding anything from us up there are you, Alec?" "What? No." I was worried I was beginning to seem flustered. Just then, Prof. Lincoln from the English department came around the corner. "Bathroom's free! You were waiting, weren't you Sophie?" Sophie looked at me. "Yes," she said, coming back down the stairs, "thanks." I breathed a sigh of relief. "I promise to give you a tour some other time," I said to Kathleen. "It's a deal." "But that reminds me," I said, "I have to replenish the bar. The wine's upstairs. Would you excuse me for a minute?" "Of course." I went upstairs and back into the master bedroom. After carefully locking the door behind me, I turned on the light. I could hear Samantha moan through her panties. I threw open the doors to the walk-in closet and pulled the cord connected to a bare overhead bulb that illuminated the small room. Samantha was just where I'd left her, looking at once beautiful and degraded. She sat in the wooden chair, her hands still securely held behind her back with the padded handcuffs. Her hair was mused, her makeup smeared, and my semen, now dried, still clung the side of her face. I reached down between her legs. Still quite wet. "You little whore," I said, stroking her clit with my finger, "you love being degraded like this don't you?" "Mmm mmm," she moaned through the panty-gag. "I'm going to use you like the little slut that you are," I said, pulling out my cock, which had gotten so hard from the sight of her that it was uncomfortable to keep in my pants. WHACK! I slapped her face with my erect penis, leaving a red streak across her cheek. "This is how sluts are treated, Samantha. This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it?" "Mmm hmmm," she moaned enthusiastically through her gag. I continued to rub her pussy with one hand while I pulled her head back with the other hand. "Such a pretty girl," I said, looking into her eyes, "yet such a debased slut. We're going to have a lot of fun together." "Mmm," she moaned, on the brink of orgasm. I stopped abruptly. "The first thing you have to learn," I said, "is that you must earn your orgasms." She whimpered, trying to no avail to rub her throbbing pussy on the wooden chair. I was still sporting a raging hard-on. "We need to do something about this first, don't we?" She moaned. "Spit out your gag." She spat out her panties, but I covered her mouth with my hand before she could say anything. I lifted her out of the chair and placed her on her knees on the floor. Her hands were still secured tightly behind her back by the cuffs. "Samantha," I said, looking down at her, "you are not to say a word unless I tell you to. If you do, our entire relationship will be over. Is that clear?" She nodded. I took off my belt. Her eyes widened. "Suck my cock, slut!" I shoved my aching prick into her mouth for the second time that day, while I coiled my belt in the other hand. CRACK! My belt came down hard across her ass. Samantha's moan sent pleasant sensations through my cock. CRACK! I spanked her again with the belt, this time on the other cheek. She moaned again and looked up at me pleadingly. CRACK! Tears came to her eyes as I landed the third blow. She was sucking me so hard now I knew I wouldn't be able to last much longer. I dropped the belt, then pulled my cock out of her mouth and pulled her hair back. "Look at me, slut." She looked up at me, tears running down her cheeks. It was an amazing sight. The beautiful 24-year-old graduate student who I'd fallen in love with over the last few months was on her knees in front of me, completely submissive to my every wish. I came even harder than the first time that day, coating Samantha's face with my sperm. She snaked her tongue out, trying to lap up my hot seed, but she only succeeded in clearing off the space around her mouth. I picked her up and placed her in the chair once more, careful to avoid getting semen on my clothing. "You look like a degraded little whore," I said, relishing the sight, "I've got to get a picture of this." I took out a digital camera and snapped a photo of the young graduate student sitting in the chair with her arms behind her back, her face covered in my seed. "How do you feel, Samantha?" "Like a dirty slut," she replied, still visibly aroused. "I bet you want to come, don't you?" "Yes, sir." I grabbed a towel from a nearby closet shelf and wiped the cum from her face. "You can open your eyes now, slut." She opened her eyes and looked up at me pleadingly. I reached down between her legs and began to fondle her pussy once again, slowly teasing her clit with my fingers until she was whimpering in anticipation. Then I stopped abruptly. "Sorry, slut. I have to get back to my guests!" Samantha moaned in frustration. I gave her pussy a little spank with my hand, then picked up her panties from the floor and stuffed them back into her mouth. I pulled the cord for the light and closed the closet doors behind me. Then I grabbed two bottles of wine from the carton next to my bed and went back downstairs to re-join my guests. No one seemed to have noticed my absence. For the next hour or so, I mingled with the guests. As I expected, they began to trickle out early, around 7 pm. After all, there was still final grading to be done! Sophie and Jacques Fournier were the last to leave, sitting huddled together on the front steps, exchanging what seemed to be amusing stories. "Alec," said Sophie, "we're not bothering you are we? Keeping you from something?" "Of course not," I lied. "Good," said Sophie, looking at Jacques and laughing. "What's so funny?" I tried not to sound aggravated. "We know," she said, looking up at me. "About what?" "Everything." "I'm sorry," I said, "I don't understand what you're talking about!" "Samantha," she said, giggling. "How do you think she knew there was a party tonight?" said Jacques, chuckling. I was stunned. "I found that dirty little note that she wrote you a few months ago, confirming what I already suspected," said Sophie, "I put it on your car windshield, remember?" I stood there in astonished silence. "I e-mailed her and told her that it would be in your best interest if she refrained from physical contact with you until after you'd been granted tenure." "So you knew?" I started. "Yes," said Sophie, looking at Professor Fournier, "and Jacques knew as well." "Your expression that day in the bathroom was priceless!" he laughed. I turned red with embarrassment. "I just wanted to make sure that the rules were enforced," said Sophie, "but I couldn't stand in the way of true love. After all, she's not your student anymore, and you're tenured, so have a good time! I gave her the address and told her to show up early and surprise you." "You should have seen the look on his face when I tried to go upstairs," she said to Jacques, who was grinning ear to ear, "like he was going to have a heart attack." "I have no idea what you're doing with her up there," said Sophie, standing up and preparing to leave, "wait," she said, leaning drunkenly on Jacques' arm and laughing, "I actually have a pretty good idea -- after all, I read that note and saw some of her e-mails to you!" "Have a good night!" called Jacques as he and Sophie walked arm-in-arm down the driveway away from my house. "You too!" I called after them. I closed and locked the front door behind them. Samantha and I were alone at last. I slowly walked back upstairs, taking my time as I opened the bedroom door and walked back over to the closet. "Well my little slut," I said, "we're all alone now. We can do all of those whorish things that you've been dying to do." She moaned through her panties. "First," I said, picking her up out of the chair and putting her on the floor, "we're going to continue with your spanking." I pulled the panties out of her mouth. "No, professor," she said, "please no more spanking. I'll be a good girl." "Now Samantha," I said, looking down at her, "do you remember all the trouble you caused me? Leaving your panties in my office desk, mailing me inappropriate pictures of yourself?" "Yes sir." "Don't you agree that I should punish you with a proper spanking?" "Yes sir." "Good," I said, sitting down in the chair that she had been seated in for most of the party. "You may stand." She struggled to right herself with her hands still secured behind her back. I pulled her up. "Such a beautiful young woman," I said, examining her pert breasts and shapely hips, tracing her curves with my fingertips. I pulled her over my lap, savoring the moment before the spanking began. She trembled in anticipation. "Samantha," I said, "I'm going to start by spanking you with my hand." "Yes sir," she murmured. "Each time I pause the spanking, you're going to repeat the words 'I am a dirty whore'." She was silent. "Is that clear, young lady?" I smacked her ass with my open hand. Hard. "OUCH!" "What was that, young lady? I didn't hear you!" SMACK! I left yet another red welt on her ass, which was almost completely covered by the previous spankings I'd already given her. "I'm a dirty whore." "That's better!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! She was wriggling in my lap now, her pussy dripping wet. I still hadn't allowed her to come. "I'm a dirty whore," she stammered. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I delivered three more sharp blows, landing the final one directly on her pussy. She moaned in pleasure. "I'm a --," she started, choking back a sob. SMACK! "Dirty whore," she finished, gasping in pleasure and pain. "Good girl," I said, reaching between her legs and massaging her pussy and clit. "Oh please professor," she moaned, "let me come." "Not just yet, young lady," I said, pausing my attentions to her clit, "Don't you think that your transgression warrants a slightly more severe punishment?" "No sir," she pleaded, "I've learned my lesson, sir." "I wish I could believe you, slut." I uncuffed her hands. "You may stand." "But," she protested, clearly aroused beyond belief. "Stand." She pivoted off my lap and stood next to me. "We're moving into the bedroom." I stood and opened the closet doors and gestured towards the bed. "Bend over the bed, slut." She stood at the edge of the bed, trembling in anticipation, her reddened ass exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. I walked to the nightstand, where I'd deposited her purse earlier. I opened it, rummaging through the contents. To my delight, I found the two items I'd been hoping to find: a tube of lipstick and a hairbrush. "This lipstick," I said, "looks just like the tube that you used to masturbate in my class." "Yes sir," she murmured, still face-down on the bed. "And this hairbrush," I said, "looks like it would be a good tool for the rest of your punishment." "Please, no," she moaned, "just let me come." I walked back to the bed where she was bent over, then I rubbed the pointy side of the hairbrush slowly across her sore ass. "Please," she whimpered, "let me come, professor." I flipped the hairbrush over to the smooth side and continued to rub her buttocks. "All in good time," I said, drawing the hairbrush back. I enjoyed Samantha's gasp as she anticipated my blow. I let her wait several long seconds. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I landed three blows in rapid succession on her abused ass. She was crying in frustration, so close to coming that I knew the slightest touch from me would set her off. "What do you say, slut?" "I'm a dirty whore," she repeated through sobs. "That's a good girl." I brushed her clit ever so slightly with my fingertip, and set off an explosion. Samantha's entire body tensed and released rapidly as wave after wave of pleasure passed over her. "I'M COMING!" she cried. After lying on the bed for a full minute, she rolled off of it and back onto the floor, looking up at me with a flushed face and tear-stained eyes. "Thank you professor," she said, "I've been craving that for a long time." "My pleasure, slut." "Now," I said, reaching for the tube of lipstick, "about this lipstick." "What about it?" "I recall from the pictures you sent me that you enjoy writing slutty things on your own body." "Maybe," she answered coyly. "I think it's time to label you as the slut that you are." I removed the cap on the lipstick and brushed the hair back from her forehead, exposing a clean writing surface. "What are you writing, professor?" "Cumslut," I said, tracing the letters across her forehead in lipstick, "and now I'm going to take a picture so we remember this moment for a long time." I snapped a photo with my digital camera. "You make me feel so degraded, professor! Like a filthy little slut," she said, smiling up at me. "Good. But there's one thing that we haven't done yet, slut." "What's that?" she asked. "I haven't taken your ass." A look of terror crossed her face. "Did you not believe I was serious, slut?" "No sir," she said, "I mean yes sir." "Get over here and take out my cock." Samantha crawled up to me and unbuttoned my pants, eager to please. Easing the zipper down, she smiled as my cock sprang to attention for the third time that day. "Oh professor," she said, "I love your cock. It's so big and thick." "Stop talking and put it in your mouth." She began slurping on my dick, running her tongue under the head, stopping to lick my balls. "You're an expert cocksucker, Samantha." "I'm a slut, remember?" she smiled up at me. "Rub your pussy while you suck me, slut." Before long, my cock was hard as bone. I knew it would take me much longer to come this time around. "That's good, slut," I said, "get your ass in the air. I'm going to fuck your little cunt." Samantha eagerly turned and presented her reddened ass to me. I slowly slid my cock inside. "You're still quite tight for such a little slut," I said. I grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck and began to fuck her. "You love this, don't you?" "Yes, professor," she moaned, "fuck your little slut. Fuck my little pussy with your big cock." I slapped her ass with my free hand. "Ouch," she moaned, "hurt me professor! Hurt me with that big cock!" I fucked her even faster. Despite the wonderful sight of my cock disappearing into her petite pussy, I was nowhere near coming. I removed my cock and went to the nightstand where I kept a bottle of lube. I squirted some onto my finger and slowly worked it into her ass. Then I pushed my cock back into her sopping pussy. "You like having my finger in your ass you little slut, don't you?" "Yes sir," she moaned as I fucked her. "Would you like me to fuck your ass, slut?" "No sir," she moaned, "please no sir." "Why not?" I began to work my finger even farther into her ass, making sure it was nice and lubed. "It's too big." "What's too big?" "Your cock, professor!" "I see," I said, removing my rock-hard cock from her pussy and placing it against her ass sphincter, "unfortunately, I'm going to take your ass anyway. It belongs to me, after all." She began to moan as I slowly worked my cock into her tiny asshole. I went slowly, but it seemed to take forever until I was all the way inside. "You're amazingly tight back here, Samantha." "Yes sir," she moaned, "it hurts a little, sir." "Is this the first time you've been ass-fucked, Samantha?" "Yes sir." "Who does this ass belong to, Samantha?" "You, sir." "That's right you little slut," I said, and spanked her sharply, "and now you're going to beg for it." "Please," she moaned. "Please what, slut?" "Please fuck my ass." I began to pump her tight ass, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. It was an amazing feeling to finally be fucking my submissive student in her slutty ass. Her surrender to me was complete. "Take that cock you little slut." "Oh yes, professor," she moaned, "give it to me. I need it. I need it so bad." "What are you?" I asked, slapping her ass. She screamed, either out of pain, pleasure or both. "I'M A SLUT PROFESSOR. I'M A SLUT FOR YOUR COCK!" I began to fuck her as hard as I could. "I'M COMING!" she screamed, and I felt her ass begin to tighten. These final words were too much for me to take. I shot my load deep into her ass and collapsed beside her on the floor, cradling her in my arms. For a long time we didn't speak. I may have fallen asleep. After a while, we moved to the bed, where I held her under the covers. "You're the best teacher I've ever had," she cooed. "And you're the perfect student," I said, "but such a slut!" She smiled. "Only for you, professor." THE END Thanks to all my readers for your encouraging comments and e-mails. Let me know if you've enjoyed this final installment!