11 comments/ 28728 views/ 2 favorites Introducing Dr. Dalton By: AquaStarryNight The last sound that I expected to hear in the middle of my American Economic History class was my cell phone ringtone. I fumbled desperately inside of my backpack, trying to locate my pink Razr, as the first few lines of Nickelback's "Rockstar" played jarringly loudly. After what seemed like an eternity, I found my phone and shut it off, my face hot and, I'm sure, correspondingly red. I looked up to see Dr. Dalton staring pointedly at me, his eyebrow raised slightly. I blushed even redder and looked down at my notebook. Forty minutes later, after he dismissed the class, I walked to the front of the room and stood before his desk, waiting to speak with him. There were three other people in front of me; the first two were the typical tiny blond sorority girl types, you know the ones...big hair, fake boobs, and American Eagle miniskirts. I felt slightly irritated as I watched the first one, whose name I think is Stacey or Tracey or Ashley, toss her hair to the side and smile up at the professor. Girls like that inspired annoyance and not a little jealousy; I think that it's safe to say that while I'm not heinously ugly, I've got nothing on the air-headed Cameron Diaz types. I'm about 5'4", extremely curvy with a teeny bit of a belly, and have shoulder-length brownish-red hair and green eyes. As I waited for Stacey and Tabby or whatever their names were to finish flirting with Dr. Dalton, I absently considered him. This is the second straight semester I've had him for class, and that didn't happen accidentally. As soon as I found out that he was teaching another, non-intro-level American history course, I signed up for it, even though I really didn't care at all about the topic. Dr. Adam Dalton was not really your typical "hot" college professor...and even though he was attractive, that wasn't why I had developed a monster crush on him. He's one of the very few people that I've ever met who's truly, deeply, and passionately in love with his topic; the intensity with which he presents his lectures and leads class discussions is incredibly sexy. He's about 6' tall, average weight, probably around 200 pounds, I would guess, and has brown, close-cropped hair and blue eyes. He has a really sexy professor-y way of dressing; although he only just earned his PhD last fall, he wears corduroy pants and sweater vests and jackets with patched elbows to class. I think it's really, really cute in a dorky way. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the two girls left and I was standing in front of Dr. Dalton. He looked up at me and smiled. "What can I do for you?" I smiled back at him and said, "I just wanted to apologize for my cell phone going off in class; I can't believe I forgot to turn it off today." Dr. Dalton had finished gathering his things and gestured for me to follow him out into the hallway. "I'm actually on my way to my next class; would you mind talking as we walk?" I nodded my assent and followed him out the door. He continued as we walked, "Your phone's not a big deal; don't worry about it. I know that it's never happened before and it happens to everyone. By the way, I read your discussion question responses; they're very good." I beamed at the praise, because I worked extremely hard at submitting high-quality work in this class, particularly. "I'm glad you liked it; I wasn't sure if the point that I made about the dichotomy presented by agrarian republicanism and industrial capitalist democracy was what you were looking for or not." The conversation continued in the same vein as we walked across campus to the library and the supplemental classrooms it contained. As we reached the doors of the library, he said goodbye and continued inside, while I made my way next door to the student union building to meet some of my sorority sisters for lunch. As I set my backpack down on the table and sat down, one of my sisters looked up at me and asked, "why are you so happy?" I winked at her and told her about the conversation I'd had. "He's just so sexy! I love how intense he gets during class. The other day, when he handed back our first paper, I looked through it to the last page and saw that, below the A, he'd written a section about how much he'd liked my way of synthesizing historiography with an elegant writing style. I seriously just wanted to take him upstairs to his office and fuck him on his desk." She laughed out loud at my last statement: "Isn't he married, though?" "Yeah...you know what, though, marriage is overrated...ideally, I'd love to help him forget all about it." "Would you really actually have sex with him if you had the opportunity?" I smiled thoughtfully and said, "Absolutely. There's no doubt in my mind; I've never been turned on by anyone ever before. And the thing that makes it sexier is that it's a mental attraction...god just thinking about him makes me wet. But I guess it's kind of a non-issue, since I'm positive that he's never flirted back when I've tested things out. I think, unfortunately, that the only place I'll ever be fucking Dr. Dalton will be in my dreams." I sat down and had lunch with them, heading back to the sorority house where must of us lived with everyone else when we were finished. Since that day was a Friday, I wore a really sexy, really revealing outfit that night: tight dark blue low-rise jeans with the lacy red top of my thong sticking out, a low-cut baby-doll black top that accentuated my D-cup breasts really well, and a sexy red lacy bra that peeked out of the top. Friday nights I went out with my sisters to the one (and ONLY) dance club in our college town. The club is best described as a 21-and-over frat party. There are frequently about 300-400 people crammed into a space that can only comfortably accommodate about half that number. That night, I did 4 shots of Jagermeister in quick succession, and had another two mixed drinks on top of that when we got to the bar; needless to say, I was pretty messed up. I took a frat boy home later that night and fucked him, imagining all the time that he was Dr. Dalton. I think I actually might have said Adam's name as I came; I don't imagine that the boy (I think his name was Ryan) noticed. On Monday morning, I got up early to get dressed and look a little bit extra cute, as I did every Monday before Dr. Dalton's class. I chose a long flowing black skirt, a long bright-blue camisole, and a really low-cut black shirt to layer over top of it. I also wore my demi-cup black lace see-through bra and a pair of black and pink boyshorts that were my current favorite. When I got to class that morning, Dr. Dalton hadn't arrived yet, so I settled into the front desk in the second row and waited. He walked into the room about 2 minutes before class was scheduled to begin, looking a bit lost and very disorganized, which was strange for him. He delivered that day's lecture on the relationship between the American countryside and the American city before and during the process of industrialization only half-heartedly; that was also very unlike him, as he always gave every lecture with a sexy, single-minded intensity. He dismissed the class ten minutes early, which was further unlike him; usually we only left his class with five minutes (instead of the normal fifteen) left to get to our next class. After class, as everyone else filed out, I made my way up to his desk. He looked up at me after I'd been standing there for a bit; I could tell that I'd interrupted some sort of deep thought process that he'd been engaged in. I said, "I just wanted to ask you about the paper that's due next week; I have some questions as to the style and content requirements." He sighed and said, "If you'd like, you can follow me to my office; my next class isn't until 3:30 this afternoon and I have a lot of catching-up to do on grading for my introductory world history course." I followed him back to his office yet again; it was located rather haphazardly in one of the older campus buildings; the classroom building that our history department was usually located in was undergoing a complete renovation, and all of the history faculty offices were scattered across campus. His office was on the third floor of Herring Hall, mixed in among English and Chemistry department offices. I'd noticed that every time I'd ventured to his office for a meeting, I'd never once seen anyone else on the floor. I asked him about it as we walked inside. He said, "You know, you're right...I've only ever seen anyone other than my students up here maybe a few times. I suppose that either we just have diametrically opposite schedules, or that they don't really follow their scheduled office hours." As we walked into the office, he absently closed the door behind us. This was strange because every other time that I'd been in his office, he'd been careful to prop the door open a few inches with a book; I guess maybe it was a professionalism thing. I sat in one of the wooden chairs adjacent to his desk as he settled himself behind it. He stared off into space as I watched, and it was only a few minutes later that he shook himself and said, "I'm so sorry! I have a lot on my mind today, and I know that I'm wasting your time. Now what is it exactly that you needed to talk about?" I knew that this opportunity, to catch him emotionally off-guard and to possibly establish a different sort of relationship, was too good to be true, and not to be wasted. I made a snap decision as I leaned forward. "Are you okay, Dr. Dalton? You seem really distracted and upset about something." He sighed and folded his long fingers together as he said, "Yes, I am distracted today; a lot of things happened at home all at once and I'm having a difficult time coming to terms with them all. But I'm sure that you have better things to do than to listen to me rambling on about my personal problems." "Not at all; actually I'm just a bit worried about you. I really don't mind listening; I don't have any other classes today." He opened up over the next half-hour about all of the problems that were plaguing him; they included an unhappy, on the verge of divorce marriage, problems with obtaining funding for his on-going research projects, and his concerns for the health of his grandparents, whom he was very close to and who lived nearly half the country away. I had tuned out temporarily, as I watched him speak; there was some sort of innate grace very evident in his movements that I found really sexy. I tuned back in as he continued, "...and I'm honestly just not sure of what else that I can do to make her happy; she says that she gave up her own ambitions to help me complete my PhD, but none of my offers or suggestions make her happy. I still love her, but it just seems completely hopeless. And you -- " He stopped abruptly and looked up at me, startled. "What, Dr. Dalton?" He looked uncomfortable as he tried to play down what he'd said. I gently insisted that he finish, and he did so with great reluctance. "Well, it's just that I've noticed your passion and your intelligence greatly over the past two semesters; I'd have to be blind not to. You're very rare among students, Allie; you remind me very much of myself at your age. I've talked about you quite a lot at home, and I think that Mandy's noticed; she gets incredibly defensive whenever I talk about your class, and has accused me several times of having improper feelings for you." My head was spinning as he confessed all of this; I'd never in a million years considered that this could be a mutual attraction. "I'm so sorry, professor, if I've caused any sort of problems for you -- " , I started to say, but was silenced by his emphatic, negative head-shake and his placing his left hand upon my right hand, which had been lying on his desk. "Don't be. Really. You have no idea how incredible it's been to have a student who's just as passionate and intense about this subject. Although I've always denied it, I think that Mandy may be right; I'm more than just intrigued by your passion and dedication to your chosen discipline." As he said the last words, his eyes searched mine; I met his gaze squarely, allowing him access to any answers that he still sought. He seemed to come to some sort of resolution and stood, still holding my hand. I followed him, standing also; he pulled me slowly, hypnotically closer, until I was so close to him that our bodies were nearly touching. He looked down at me and slowly lowered his head, until his lips touched mine. It was like a current of electricity shot through us; I hungrily kissed him back, our tongues mingling desperately, igniting a need for something more. He moved me back against the wall, pressing himself up against me as we kissed; I could feel his cock hardening against my belly; just feeling it made me wet. He rubbed his hands over my breasts outside of my shirt; I felt my nipples harden from the attention. I opened my legs so that one of his could slip between them, and when it did I rubbed against it, wordlessly seeking more of him. He pulled me after him, across the room, to the green leather couch situated in the corner of his office. He pulled me down on top of him, positioning me so that I was straddling him. I moved my body so that my dripping-wet pussy was directly over the hardness of his cock, and rode him as though he were inside of me. Growling at me, he flipped me over suddenly, so that I was held captive beneath him. Looking down at me, I could see a new hardness and intensity in his eyes, and he pulled off my shirt roughly. He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my breasts so that he could work my nipples to a diamond-like hardness through the transparent material of my bra. Traveling lower still, he pushed my skirt up around my waist, and ever-so-slowly moved his head down between my thighs. I could feel his breath tickle my thighs as his head stopped directly even with my pussy. He slowly extended his tongue and slightly licked at my still panty-covered pussy. The feeling of his hot tongue on my wet pussy, however indirectly, drove me crazy. I grabbed his hair and wordlessly begged him to continue. He pulled my panties down roughly, and dove back into my pussy, licking up and down the entire length of my soaking slit. He licked around my clit gently, driving me crazy, and slowly inserted one finger into my pussy. I was panting with need by this time, and begged him, "Oh god, Adam, please don't stop. Please make me cum; I can't stand this...." He continued licking around my clit, bringing me closer and closer to the brink; just as I was about to go over the edge, he stopped and looked up at me. I wasn't sure why he'd stopped, and in answer to my silent question, he stood, suddenly, and was naked in front of me, his cock standing angrily at attention. I looked up at him and held his eyes with mine, as I took his hardness into my house. Looking up at him all the while, I licked and sucked around the base, being careful to continue licking as I sucked more of him into my mouth. Bobbing my head back and forth while I cradled his balls between my fingers, I could feel taste the precum leaking out of his cockhead. He growled down at me ferociously as he muttered, "Oh yes, that's right, goddamn it you little slut you like sucking my cock. Oh fuck yes, mmm just like that, fuck I like it when you suck me like that." Abruptly, he pulled his cock from my mouth and was back on top of me, his cock settled, hard and hot, at the entrance to my pussy. He slowly, torturously, put just the tip inside, and pulled it back out to rub around the opening. I'd had enough; he was slowly driving me mad, and so I said, "Please, goddamn it Adam, I need to feel you inside of me. I need you to fuck me hard with your huge hard cock, professor, please make me cum." He plunged inside all at once, filling me completely. I gasped from the pleasure of it; I'd had sex before, of course, but never like this. He pulled back out slowly and rammed into me again; I could feel every inch of him stretching my pussy tight around his cock. He gasped, "Goddamn it you're so fucking tight. You're going to make me fucking cum." I could feel myself get wetter at his words; I'd never had anyone talk dirty to me before and it was turning me on ridiculously. "Oh god, professor, please keep fucking me. I want you to cum so hard inside of my tight pussy." He stopped, pulled out, and flipped me over suddenly so that I was on my knees, my ass in the air in front of him. Roughly, he pulled me close to him and entered me in a single stroke. As he pulled out and thrust in again, I felt his balls slap my against my ass. He fucked me increasingly harder, bringing me tantalizingly close to orgasm. Finally, he reached around as he fucked me and lightly rubbed my clit; the combination of the pressure on my clit and the feeling of his cock jarring against my g-spot sent me over the edge. I started cumming around his cock, begging him to keep fucking me and please not to stop. My words sent him over his own edge, for I felt his cock get bigger and harder and then I felt his hot cum shooting up into me, coating the inside of my pussy. It went on for what felt like forever; finally, he finished and pulled out of me. I self-consciously turned over and looked at him, unsure of what would come next. He looked right back at me, but there was no shame or censure in his gaze. He leaned forward and kissed me deeply, our tongues mingling now somewhat tiredly. He pulled me toward him and I lay against his chest, both of us still breathing heavily. Just then, his office door (which neither of us had thought about locking) opened and Dr. Goodwin, the head of the history department, walked in. I screamed softly and buried myself as best as I could, against Adam, while he sputtered and turned three shades of red. Dr. Goodwin looked at the both of us evenly and then turned around and walked out the door, closing it behind him. (The next chapter of this story may be written shortly, depending on the volume and type of feedback I receive.) Introducing Dr. Dalton Ch. 02 I stared at Adam in shock, becoming suddenly very aware of my unclothed state. He looked back at me, displaying similar amounts of embarrassment and fear over what had just occurred. As a recap, what had just happened was that I'd just had wild and amazing passionate sex with my history professor in his office, and right after we both experienced incredible orgasms, Dr. Goodwin, the chair of the history department, had walked in and seen the both of us naked and sweaty and obviously in the afterglow of an amazing sexual encounter: Just then, his office door (which neither of us had thought about locking) opened and Dr. Goodwin, the head of the history department, walked in. I screamed softly and buried myself as best as I could, against Adam, while he sputtered and turned three shades of red. Dr. Goodwin looked at the both of us evenly and then turned around and walked out the door, closing it behind him. Awkwardly, I moved away from Dr. Dalton and began to dress, pulling the skirt and tank top I'd put on so long ago earlier that day. I stood with my back to him and heard similar rustling sounds, and when I turned around I saw that he'd dressed, as well. I wasn't sure what to do or say; I knew that what we'd done had almost certainly cost him his reputation as one of the best and most charismatic associate professors in the department, and had likely cost him his job and any chance of a decent recommendation. I moved toward the door, but as I reached for the knob, I felt him touch my shoulder. I turned around, and, looking down at me, he said, "I don't want you to regret anything that we did here. I'm not sorry that we made love, because it was incredible and I loved touching you like that." I gave him a sad smile, nodded, and continued out the door. As I walked down the three flights of steps of his office building, I came to a resolution. It was my fault that Dr. Dalton was probably going to lose his job; I had a responsibility to attempt at least some form of damage control, even if I didn't think it was going to be at all effective. Leaving Herring Hall, I walked next door to Greystone Hall, which housed the transitionary history department office and Dr. Goodwin's office. I knocked tremulously at his door; to my surprise, I heard a muffled "come in" from somewhere inside. When I entered, Dr. Goodwin looked up at me with a faint expression of surprise on his face. Knowing that he'd seen me completely naked 10 minutes before, I was sure that my face was the deepest shade of red when I began to speak. "Dr. Goodwin, I just want to say that I know that what happened between Dr. Dalton and myself was inappropriate. I want you to know that he didn't coerce me into any sort of sexual liaison, nor did he even ask for it. I deliberately attempted to seduce him, and I just don't want you to think that he's ever been anything but ethical and professional in his actions toward me or any other student before today." Dr. Goodwin had listened impassively to my speech; I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Even though he was the department chair, he still taught a select few undergraduate classes mixed among his graduate courses. I was in one of his classes that semester, a seminar on Gilded Age and Progressive Era politics. I knew that he was aware of my intellectual ability; every assignment that I'd completed in his course had returned with an "A" on it. Dr. Goodwin was one of those men who had obviously been immersed in academia his entire life. He was tall and very thin, probably 6'1'' and around 170 lbs., with silver-blond hair. He looked to be in his late 40s or early 50s; it was somewhat difficult to tell. He wasn't obviously attractive, but yet wasn't unattractive, either. He studied me for a while, then said finally, "The university and I myself place a high premium on intellectual ethics. The fact that you engaged your professor in a sexual relationship while you were an active student in one of his courses bespeaks a very high level of unprofessionalism on his part, as well as a possible breach of ethics. I'm afraid that even though Dr. Dalton didn't actively pursue a sexual relationship with you, the fact that he engaged in a sexual relationship with a student is more than enough reason to dismiss him from his teaching duties." My face fell; I had hoped that my speech would have inspired some sort of mercy on Dr. Goodwin's part. I said desperately, "Isn't there anything that I can do to change your mind?" I knew from his face that he immediately discerned the sexual meaning of my words. I was not one of those students who'd ever needed to resort to sexual favors in exchange for grades, and I wasn't sure how I felt about bartering my sexuality. In his slow, slightly southern tone, he said, "Anything, Allie? Isn't that a bit rash?" I slowly set down my backpack and sat lightly in the office chair beside his; I shook my head and said, "It's very important to me that Dr. Dalton not be penalized for what I coerced him into doing. I want to make it clear, however, that just as I didn't engage in a sexual relationship with Dr. Dalton in exchange for grades, the same applies here. You're my professor, but I know that I'm capable of earning A's in your class without resorting to sex. I think that exchanging sex for grades is abhorrent and unethical, and I'd never participate in it." I could see that something that I'd said had pleased him; he smiled at me and then said, "You know, I have to tell you that I admire your principles, young lady. I've been very impressed with the work that you've submitted in class, and I know from class discussions that you're more than capable of earning excellent grades in any of your classes. Since we're in this very unique situation, I suppose that it's no longer glaringly inappropriate of me to tell you that I find you quite attractive." My shock must have been evident, for he continued, "Yes, you are; don't look at me like that. I know that in a university environment there are scores of tiny blond slut types and equal numbers of big dumb football players; those same dumb blonds tend to crowd into my office hours at the end of the term and offer me sexual favors in exchange for a letter grade or two. Like you, intellectual ethics are very important to me, which is why I've always turned those offers down. There's another side to my refusal, too...I simply don't find that body type attractive. I need to know that, aside from physical attractiveness, that there's a level of intelligence sufficient to continue my interest. And that, my dear Allie, is why I find you so attractive. And so, in light of all of that, I will accept your offer of some sort of sex in exchange for preserving Dr. Adam Dalton's professional integrity." Still processing what he'd said, I didn't immediately notice that he'd stopped speaking, and he waited patiently as I caught up, regarding me impassively. I slowly nodded my assent. He continued, "Just as a formality, Allie, I want to make especially sure that you know what you're agreeing to." I nodded again, and he stood up suddenly. "Okay, then, if you'll accompany me, we'll begin." I was somewhat taken aback by the swiftness of it all, but followed him obediently. We walked outside and around the left side of the building, down the stairs to the parking lot behind Greystone Hall. I followed him to a late-model black Ford Explorer. He beckoned me inside; as I was fastening my seatbelt, he began speaking again. "I want you to know that you won't suffer any lasting harm from what's going to happen tonight. I've been divorced for three years now, and you represent only the second sexual partner I will have had in that time. In my profession, I find very few outlets for my basic needs and frustration, for after all, the mind and intelligence are most valued in my field, as opposed to strength and physical ability. I discovered very early in my life that sexual dominance appeals strongly to me, and I'm sure that it shares an association with my physical lack of dominance over my peers. You may be shocked at some of what will happen, but I can promise you that you won't dislike it." I could feel myself getting slightly wet at his words; I didn't know what was happening to me. I knew that I had a submissive side, and I enjoyed being dominated sexually, but my experience with such domination was limited to the fumbling attempts of a few previous sexual partners at holding me down while they were fucking me and the one time an ex-boyfriend had forced me to suck his cock. Dr. Goodwin had been speaking evenly as he drove; he turned the SUV into a driveway and parked in front of a medium-sized charming red brick house. He left the vehicle without speaking; I did the same and followed him into the house. He led the way downstairs, through a comfortable-looking den/basement and to a door on the far side of the wall. I followed him through the door into a smaller room, which was filled with unfamiliar-looking black leather and silver instruments. He motioned to a simple black chair and said, commandingly, "sit." I did, and he continued, "you are, for all intents and purposes, my private slut. You will do everything that I tell you to do, and if you do not do it quickly enough, you will be correspondingly punished. Now, stand and remove your clothes." I hesitated slightly, and he said, "NOW, slut," I stood, uncertainly, and removed my shoes, my skirt, and my tank top, leaving only my panties and bra. He pointed to a long, black padded-leather bench and told me to kneel. I did, and I felt his hands on me, stroking my pussy through the thin black fabric of my panties. He continued to explore me leisurely, his fingers making me increasingly wetter. All of a sudden, he removed his hands from me, stood up, and then I felt the first strike; his open hand fell sharply onto my mostly-bare ass. It stung, and I drew in my breath sharply. He continued to spank me, maintaining a steady pace and pressure. After twenty strokes, I was crying steadily, albeit silently, and he paused, rubbing and massaging my ass cheeks, which felt bright red and as though they were on fire. After a minute or so of this, he walked around to the other side of the bench and looked down at me, smiled slightly, and motioned for me to stand. I stood in front of him, my eyes downcast. I felt his hand on my chin and he lifted it lightly, until my eyes met his. He had the ghost of a smile on his face as he regarded me. I was a mess; my face was red and tear-streaked and my eyes were swollen from crying (as well as black, I'm sure, from my non-waterproof mascara). He nodded nearly imperceptibly and then spoke: "Very good, Alli. I am pleased with you. You may kneel here and wait for me to come back for you. Keep your head bowed and your eyes closed until I indicate otherwise." He didn't wait for me to respond, but turned and walked briskly from the room. I knelt slowly, bowing my head and closing my eyes, my mind racing. I had just endured one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, and I liked it! At the very least, it had turned me on severely; I could feel the wetness from my pussy and was sure that I'd soaked my panties at the very least. I could still feel faint twinges from my ass and thighs from the spanking I'd received minutes earlier; with each one, I felt myself get slightly wetter. I knelt there on the floor waiting for him to return for what felt like forever; finally, after about fifteen minutes or so, I heard him return to the room. I obediently kept my head lowered and my eyes closed; I felt him stand in front of me, and then he said, "Look at me, Alli." I raised my head and my eyes to his; looking down at me, he continued, "The spanking that I gave you is sufficient to atone for any lack of professionalism on Dr. Dalton's part; however, we have yet to deal with your blatant lack of professionalism in your seduction of your professor -- during his office hours, no less! Come with me." I followed him from the room, back through the basement and up two flights of stairs to a large and airy bedroom. There was a large cherry-wood sleigh bed in the center of the room; he motioned me onto it. When I had situated myself in the center, he joined me there; I was still wearing my panties and bra, while he remained fully clothed. He looked into my eyes for a long while, and then slowly leaned forward and kissed me. His kiss was like nothing I'd ever experienced before; it was raw possession from the moment that his lips touched mine. His tongue thrust inside of my mouth and tamed any rebelliousness that remained there. Suddenly, it was over; I looked bemusedly at him, biting my lip slightly in helpless need. He smiled at me and then laughed. When he'd gotten over his amusement, he said, still smiling, "You may undress me now, Alli." I reached over and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, my hands shaking ever so slightly. I slipped it from his shoulders and dropped it on the floor beside the bed. I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down his hips to reveal a pair of blue plaid boxer shorts straining with the very obvious evidence of his arousal. Incredibly, even after all that I'd been through that evening, I could feel my face turning red. When I'd fully divested him of his jeans, I hesitated, unsure of how to continue. I slowly raised my eyes to his, and I saw that my blushing had caused him yet more amusement. I lowered my eyes again, even more embarrassed. Suddenly, he pushed me back against the bed and lay atop me, every inch the ultimate, arrogant alpha male. He reached around and unfastened my bra, throwing it across the room; slowly, tantalizingly, he made his way down my chest to my nipples and then sucked them, adding fuel to the growing heat between my legs. After a few minutes of this torture, I was moving my hips urgently, wordlessly pleading for release. He seemed to acquiesce to my request, moving again slowly lower, until his face was even with my pussy. He pulled down my soaking wet panties and gently pulled them off, dropping them onto the floor beside the bed. He returned to his earlier position, moving slightly closer to my wet pussy. All that I wanted in that moment was to feel the roughness of his tongue circling my clit; I moved toward him slightly. I could tell that I'd done something to anger him, because his face grew hard instantly. He dove into me, attacking my clit relentlessly with his tongue. Just as I was on the very edge of orgasm, he stopped. I moved my hips in disbelief; he held me down roughly until the tremors that had nearly ignited my orgasm had subsided. "The point of this exercise, Alli, is not for you to enjoy yourself, but for me to punish you sufficiently for your actions. Your actions suggest that you are a shameless slut, fucking your history professor in his office without even locking the door." He flipped me over quickly; I felt his had running up and down the length of my slit, and then he slapped my ass, hard, five times rapidly. Because it was still sore from earlier, the spanking hurt like hell and caused tears to well in my eyes. As quickly as he'd spanked me, I felt his tongue licking my clit insistently, leading me back to the level of arousal that I'd lost almost instantly. I felt him slip his finger into my pussy and rub my g-spot; the combination of the two nearly sent me over the edge. Just as I was again on the edge of orgasm, he withdrew his fingers and his tongue and I felt him spanking me rapidly again, seven times before he stopped. I felt as though I was going to die from the sexual frustration that he'd evoked. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to finally cum. He turned me over again, and motioned to a wooden chair set away from the bed that I hadn't noticed before. "I want you to go and sit in that chair." When I'd done it, he continued, "Spread your legs for me, Alli." I spread my legs wide, exposing my pussy and its wetness to him. "I want you to touch yourself for me; rub your clit with your finger, but do not cum. Start now." It seemed that this was to me an exercise in humiliation. I'd never before masturbated in front of anyone, even though I'd been requested to do so often. I blushed yet again and touched my clit tentatively with one finger. I was so aroused from everything that I'd experienced so far that it took me only a few seconds to touch myself more firmly; soon I was rubbing circles around my clit firmly with two fingers. It was erotic torture, watching him watching me, knowing that he was reveling in my humiliation, and wanting to cum more than I'd ever wanted it in my entire life, while knowing that I could not. Finally, after I'd brought myself to the brink of orgasm what seemed like thousands of times, he beckoned for me to join him on the bed again. When I did, he pounced, removing his boxers and straddling me in one fluid motion. I could feel his cock at the very wet entrance to my pussy; it looked impossibly wide, at least 6 inches around. Without preamble, he entered me; I felt every inch of his cock stretching my pussy tight around it; I'd never had a cock that big. He pulled out and shoved back in again, and I drew in my breath sharply. He smiled ferally and said, "you really are a fucking slut, aren't you? You love being humiliated and you loved me spanking your little ass." He withdrew and slammed into me again, continuing, "And you liked touching yourself in front of me, rubbing your little clit with your fingers and looking over at me, begging me silently to fuck you. I bet that you're even going to come around my cock just from me fucking you hard." I could feel myself getting incredibly close to orgasm; the combination of all of the stimulation that I'd endured all evening, his huge hard cock pounding into me, and his derisive, humiliating tone were all pushing me closer to the edge. He grabbed my legs, pushing them high above my head and plunging into me even harder. "Go on, Alli, fucking cum on me. You know that you want to humiliate yourself further by getting me and the bed all fucking wet with your girl cum. I want you to cum for me, you little fucking slut." I felt myself slipping over the edge into the abyss; my orgasm hit me like nothing I'd ever felt before. I screamed his name as I came all over his huge cock. He continued fucking me, looking down at me with that same derisiveness as he berated me. "I bet you enjoyed cumming all over me, you little slut. Look at you...I bet that if I keep going I can get you to cum for me again." Incredibly, he was right; as he said the words, I felt my orgasm building again. This time, it came without warning, stunning me into silence, my moans the only outlet I could find for the overwhelming pleasure wracking my body. He spurred me to three more orgasms with his unique blend of humiliation and sheer force; in the midst of my fifth orgasm, I felt his cock harden even more and then explode deep inside of me, coating my pussy with what felt like a huge amount of his cum. He pulled out of me, still breathing heavily, and collapsed beside me on the bed. He pulled me closer to him and we lay there for a while, until our breathing had collectively slowed. I didn't particularly want to spend the night there with him, so I was relieved when he slipped off the bed and began to dress. I silently found my panties and bra and replaced them, adding a long t-shirt that he handed me. I followed him through the house and outside, jumping quickly inside of his SUV, hoping that no one had seen my scandalous state of undress. He said nothing, except to ask for directions to my apartment, which I tentatively gave him. After a few minutes, he pulled up in front of my large brick house, and as I reached for the door handle, he began to speak. Introducing Dr. Dalton Ch. 02 "Alli -- thank you for what you did tonight. You've more than fulfilled any debt that you or Dr. Dalton may have incurred through your behavior earlier today. I think that you may be one of the sexiest women that I've ever encountered. I hope that you won't allow what has happened between us to affect the work that you submit in class." I responded that I wouldn't, and got out of the car, closing the door lightly behind me.