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Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 01

By: MLyons



© 2004 by MLyons

Author's Note: The following story and the characters within it are purely a product of my imagination, and they are meant to be enjoyed only as a fantasy. Any similarity to real people or events is unintentional. 

Reproduction of this story in any form without express written permission from the author is prohibited.

PROLOGUE

It was late; the sun had just fallen below the horizon. Besides the waning light of dusk that managed to creep its way through the closed blinds of Professor Stephen Johnson's den, the only other source of illumination in the room was the warm glow that washed over his student's skimpily clad body from the lamp next to the leather couch. Perspiration gave a smooth luminosity to Sarah's breasts. Various sex toys littered the carpet around the couch--vibrators and clit stimulators that he had used to great effect in teasing her and denying her release all evening.

One of her freshly shaved legs was tense over his shoulder. His hand gripped the inner thigh of her other leg holding it splayed to the side, hanging off the edge of the couch. His hard cock slid into the wet, shaved folds of her pussy. When he could get them to do it, he liked his girls bare and smooth.

"Ooh, yes," he said in a hoarse voice as a driblet of sweat dropped off his chest and splashed onto the girl's miniskirt, stretched up around her waist. He teased himself, easing his dick out to the head, and then pressing it back into her shimmering twat.

Sarah moaned through her clenched teeth. Her lazy brunette curls tickled the leather under her head, and her pliable tits peeked above her stretched blouse. They jiggled tightly with each of his long thrusts. 

"Please, Stephen. I just. . . . God I need to cum," her piercing eyes bored into him, pleading for release once again. 

"Just take these things off, and fuck me. Come on, please." Her breath whisked through her teeth, and her body quivered below him with frustrated need. He felt his dick once again slip past her pussy lips into her silky hole. He got a thrill out of knowing that she couldn't cum unless she was able to touch her clit.

Her small body tensed below him as her arms struggled against the handcuffs that held her wrists sandwiched between her back and the leather seat. Her breath jumped violently in and out of her mouth. 

"Ask me nicely, Sarah." He stopped in mid-thrust, his throbbing cock stuffed halfway into her--motionless.

He knew she would do what he wanted, and it was always a treat to hear her pleas filtered through her insane lust.

"Please," she started to beg. "Fuck!" Sarah shuddered underneath him, trying to maneuver her sweaty body around his immobile member. Her filthy frustration was music to his ears.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chided, pulling his erection ever so slightly out of her. Finally, she relented.

"Please let me come, Professor Johnson." He knew she hated her submissive instincts, and that's what he loved about making her beg.

"Be specific, Sarah." He inched his cock forward until it was finally balls-deep in her wet twat.

Her bound arms helplessly pulled underneath her, and her voice shuddered. "Oh, God! Fuck you!" She laughed through her frustration. 

He couldn't help but smile as well. He loved watching her. "Say it, Sarah." He didn't want to let her off the hook.

"Please let me finger my clit so I can cum, Professor." Her thin voice cut in and out on her, and she grunted with single-minded effort below him. He felt her slithering cunt lips rub around his pubic hair, her body laboring to gain satisfaction despite its limited mobility.

He knew that she probably thought she loved him. Sarah had been the best fuck of his life. He wanted to take her submissive body in every conceivable way. He knew he was taking advantage of her feelings for him, but he couldn't help it.

Her skin was so soft, and her smile was so sweet--her reactions to his dominance so addictive. Sarah had been different from the others. He didn't even know why he bothered to pop the videotapes in to the camcorders lining the walls of his den today--habit he guessed. He used to get off on the tapes, but Sarah had made them all seem so boring now. 

He knew he would have to end it soon. He'd stayed with her longer than he'd stayed with any of his other students, and he even found himself nursing genuine feelings of affection for her. As he felt his cock being squeezed and massaged by Sarah's pleading pussy muscles, he had no regrets about the extra time he'd spent with her. He was aching to take her completely before he called it quits. God she felt good. His power over this girl, in many ways an unwilling slave to her own sexual urges, was delicious. He playfully brushed the tip of her protruding clit with his finger, causing Sarah's legs to shudder violently under his hands. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to hold off that break up just a little while longer.

"Please, Professor Johnson? Please?"

"No."

- - - -

CINDY: THE PROFESSOR'S BANE

Chapter 1

'Naughty, Naughty Professor Johnson.'

It was written in flowery handwriting on a pink envelope, which somehow seemed to be consistent with the bubbly girl who had just given it to him.

"Go ahead and open it up, silly!" The petite blonde sat across from his desk, giggling--her bare calves playfully swinging in front of her. Her flirty pony tail played along the back of her neck. 

There was something strange about Cindy. It was unusual for any of his students not to be intimidated by him--his reputation was not what it used to be. He was notorious for being the professor you don't want to get. He couldn't help it; the University had really gone downhill.

Years ago, so far back he could hardly remember anymore, he harbored a genuine liking for his female students. They were so pretty and doe-eyed, and he even enjoyed teaching. When he started becoming intimate with them, however, his affection slowly degraded into carnal sexual desire, where he started down a spiral of deviance that culminated in his unfortunate relationship with Sarah Jennings. After he said "goodbye" to her ten years ago, he managed to break the chain, but the price was a growing vindictiveness in the classroom that had become almost legendary. He still got a thrill out of the power he held over his students, but now, instead of charm and action, he turned to bitterness and imagination.

He would often subtly scold and demean the cute girls who braved an office visit while his mind flooded with deviant sexual fantasies in which the pretty girls took a leading part--submitting to his imaginary "discipline" for being such whiny brats. 

With her ribbed t-shirt stretched around her slender torso, her sweet smile, and her sickening naivety, Cindy would fill that part in his mind nicely. He imagined her as a closet sex fiend with the impatience of a child, unable to keep her hands off herself. He had visions of cuffing her wrists overhead on a hook and whipping her bare bottom with cat-o-nine-tails for being such a horny little girl-slut. It was times like this that he really missed Sarah Jennings.

He shook the images off.

"Miss Kelly," he groused, regarding the envelope with only a cursory glance, "I really don't have time for games today. Is there anything academic I can help you with?" 

Something about her twinkling smile and the troubling words on the envelope made him uneasy. Lord knows, he had some skeletons in his closet, but the idea of someone like Cindy digging them out was laughable. This must have been some kind of freshman joke, or maybe even a proposition.

"Nope! Nothing like that," she answered his question cheerily. "I really think you ought'a open up that envelope, though."

Johnson paused at her lack of deference to him, and looked at her suspiciously. He opened the envelope, and silently paged through the documents within--shocked. It was a collection of bank records that he immediately recognized as his own--an account that was completely independent of his University earnings. It was the one he'd used to store the money he'd managed to skim from his additional employer in the private sector. His mind reeled, but he tried to hide his swelling concern.

"What is this, Miss Kelly?"

"Oh, come on, Professor. You know what it is," she said coyly.

Johnson couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Where did? Where did you get this?"

"That's not really important, Professor. What's important is that if I give these papers to your boss, Mister Tyrney at Young Industries, he might start an investigation, and you know what? I'll bet you'll get in trouble." She giggled at him. Was this waif of a teenager actually blackmailing him? Who the fuck was this girl? Johnson's uneasiness turned to panic.

He did his best to feign a laugh. "Uhm. Miss Kelly, I think that--"

"Such a naughty old man," she ignored him. "Do you want to go to jail?" 

Johnson's heart was racing. If Tyrney saw these records, he'd tell Karl Young about it and have Johnson's ass. This was a question of hundreds of thousands of dollars stolen from Young's pocket over the last 10 years, and he was a powerful and ruthless man, especially for those in whom he'd placed so much trust. In fact, Johnson would not only lose his retirement, he'd lose the rest of his life--wallowing in a jail cell, or worse, for who knows how long, and then having nothing to show for it when he came out on the other side. 

"Miss Kelly--"

"It's not a hard question, is it Professor?" 

Her sweet demeanor was despicable to him. Johnson's stomach was in knots. He wanted to slap her, but behind her cute eyes was deadly serious intent.

He shook his head, more in disbelief than as an answer to her question. "Cindy, I don't know what you think--"

"That's what I thought. Now, are you going to be a good boy?"

"What?"

"It'll be fun, I promise!"

"What do you mean? Please, just," he exhaled, trying to control his exasperation. "What do you want?"

"Lots of things, Professor!" Cindy bubbled as if she'd just been asked what she wanted for Christmas. "I'll tell you what. You're probably kinda surprised, huh? I'll meet you here at the end of the day, say 4 O'Clock? And you can tell me what you decide."

Johnson was stunned. "I don't understand. Decide what?"

"Whether or not you're going to go to jail, silly!" She reached her small hand across his desk and pushed on his shoulder.

He was shocked and in disbelief at her playful sincerity. Why was she doing this? He wanted to ask, but he could only manage, "Wh. . . Why--"

Her smile had dissolved just as easily as it had appeared. "Because, you deserve it."

She opened the door and flitted out of his office--her flowing skirt bouncing along the back of her knees. 

Johnson was left alone. His eyes were blurry with panicked distress and furious anger. Maybe she just wanted money. His only copy of these documents had been locked in a cabinet at home. How did she get these? A realization struck him. He opened the drawer in his office desk that held the extra house keys he kept there. His suspicions were confirmed when he found them missing--who knows for how long.

"Fuck!"

- - - -

"So, Mister Johnson, are you going to play with me?" 

Her sweet smile made him wince with disgust. Was she for fucking real? He tried to remain calm. "What do you want, Cindy?"

Ignoring any semblance of his authority, she walked around to his side of the desk. "Well, you're a little dog, aren't you, Professor?"

"What did you say!" The absolute nerve!

"A naughty, dirty little doggy." She spoke directly to his face--the strong grape scent of her bubble gum assaulting his nose. The way she provocatively said the words made his dick stir despite himself. He couldn't believe she was saying these things. What a fucking cock-tease, he thought. 

"Here." She said as she tossed another envelope onto his desk. "Open it."

When he opened the envelope he was in for his second demoralizing shock of the day. Inside were a number of pictures of his younger self, fucking his students at home. They were grainy, but clear enough that he could recognize himself and the girls. He paused at a picture of him with his dick buried in some strawberry blonde whose name he couldn't remember. His cocky face stared into the camera as if he was giving himself a thumbs up. He was humiliated and his anger stirred anew. She must have found the videotapes in his house. He imagined this little brat rifling through his things and suddenly felt completely exposed. 

"I like that one, Professor." Her little finger pointed to his naked body.

"My God."

"See, I told you--a little doggy." She giggled and skipped back to the chair opposite his desk. "Tell me what you are, Professor."

Johnson looked at her. He would not submit to this cocky, insignificant bitch. "Fuck you, Cindy."

"Oh. So you've decided then!" Cindy made no hesitation in grabbing her cell phone from a pocket in her skirt. He wanted to rip it out of her hand and smash it against the wall. He wanted to lunge across the desk and smack her face, but she was so small. He knew he would be carted away for assault.

"Stop. Wait. I'm sorry. Cindy!"

She held the phone to her ear with her eyes on his, waiting for the response she wanted to hear. "Yes, may I speak with Mister Ronald Tyrney please?" she said. "I have some information for him. Thank you." Her eyes didn't leave Johnson's. She wasn't bluffing. She covered the phone mic and giggled, "You know what? I hear Ronald's kind of a perv, I wonder if he'd like some of those videotapes of yours too." 

"I'm a. . . I'm a naughty doggy." This was unreal.

Cindy punched the keypad to end the call. "Good! That wasn't so hard was it?" She put her phone back in her pocket. "You know what naughty doggies do, don't you, Professor?"

Johnson sat silently, seething at her.

"They get down on their hands and knees."

"What is this game you're playing, Cindy? You're making a mistake." Johnson was desperate to talk his way out of this ridiculous situation.

"No, no mistake. Down on your knees, right here." She pointed to the floor just below her swinging legs. "Just like a doggy! "

Johnson rose out of his chair. He felt like he was out of his body, taking demeaning orders from a bratty 19-year-old she-devil. He wanted to teach her a lesson. He wanted to grab her pony tail by the fist, pull her roughly over his knee, yank her skirt down to her knees and spank her bare bottom like the disobedient child she was.

He certainly hadn't expected this. What was he going to do? "Cindy, please, this isn't really necessary."

"Sh Sh," she wagged her finger at him. "Doggies don't talk, Professor."

His breath shortened in his tight chest. He couldn't believe he was going to do this. He lowered himself onto his knees, and then on all fours in his own office. Even in his subservient position, he couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she was, in a very petite kind of way. She was certainly thinner and less busty than he usually went for, but those bare, slender calves underneath that skirt would have been almost irresistible under better circumstances--even at his age.

"That's better! See now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Her perky breasts shook slightly underneath her stretched t-shirt as she adjusted herself in her chair. This dainty doll of a girl who he could practically throw across the room had him just where he would have wanted her.

"Now stick your tongue out and pant for me," her tone was serious.

Was she insane? "Pant?"

"One more word out of you, you naughty old man, and I'm gonna go call your perv friend, Ronald. Now pant for me little doggy," Cindy chided. "Come on, be a good boy." She wagged her sparsely freckled calves in front of his face.

Johnson could feel his erection betraying him despite his anger and humiliation. In fact, his hard on only fueled his anger further. He simply didn't know what else to do. He opened his mouth, stuck his tongue out and started to pant like a dog. He could feel the cold air drying his tongue, and his forehead slowly saturated with sweat.

"Good, good. Pant for me." She giggled at him from her seat, rubbing one of her silky calves against his nose. He could smell her lotion. "You're so cute!" 

Johnson pulled his tongue back in and started to say something.

"Don't you speak!" she raised her impatient voice for the first time. His cock throbbed without regard for the sickness in his stomach as he caught a glimpse of the white panties underneath her skirt. "I'll do the talking! Now, pant."

Johnson stuck his tongue out again.

Cindy grabbed one of the photos off his desk. "Did you fuck her, little doggy?" She held the photo in front of his face. It was a picture of some blonde bimbo he'd fucked countless years ago. He couldn't remember her name. She had big tits and was on her knees, busily licking his balls. 

"Do you like her?" Cindy was teasing him as she indicated that he should nod. 

He simply nodded. He had no choice.

"Do you like her? Yeah? Do you? Go get her!" Cindy tossed the photo toward the corner of his office. I floated over and landed underneath a metal framed, green vinyl chair. "Go ahead, doggy, fetch."

Johnson didn't move. No fucking way, he thought.

"Come on now." She stood up and then bent over beside him. He saw her ass sticking out under her skirt. Her thin fingers reached between his legs behind him. She grabbed his hard cock over his suit pants, and squeezed his balls and the bottom of his pole as if they were throttle controls.

"Yay! You do like her." Her reaction was exceptionally giddy, almost as if it was a relief. She wanted him to be hard. "Go ahead, now. Fetch!" She tightened her grip on his scrotum until he felt a little pain.

"No. No!" He shifted his legs in an instinctive reaction to get her fucking hand off his balls--feeling like a horny, degraded animal being groped by a teenage veterinary assistant. 

"Yes, come on." Cindy had no sympathy for his predicament. She simply walked along side him like a trainer, continuing to squeeze just hard enough and repeating her command, "Fetch, doggy, fetch."

Johnson finally got the debasing message and began crawling over to the corner. Cindy insistent fingers squeezed and pulled his ball sack the whole way--serving as a sick motivation for him to perform his trick. 

She giggled at him. "I thought you liked her. Pick it up with your teeth and bring it back."

Johnson couldn't believe she was capable of this, her hand still kneading his sensitive ball sack like a piece of dough.

"Good boy!" Cindy grabbed the photo from his mouth.

"Do you like me, too Professor?" She seemed very anxious to confirm his cock's reactions to her. She knelt in front of him and brushed her tiny nose against his a few times like she was cuddling her puppy. "Do you?"

His dick became even harder. He nodded and panted, not daring to disobey her again.

"I thought so." Cindy stood up and stepped over to the ratty green sofa in the corner of his office.

"Naughty dogs like the young girls don't they, Professor?" She lifted her smooth leg up so that her knee was on the seat of the couch beside the arm rest, her white sneaker dangling over the edge. Her other leg, bare from the top of her short white sock to the middle of her thigh, wrapped around to the other side of the arm rest. The edge of her flowing skirt dangled in thin folds around her skin. She bent over causing her skirt to ride up the back of her creamy thighs just enough to reveal a small hint of her white panties covering the crack of her ass. She whipped her flowing pony tail around so that it dangled next to her shoulder, and she looked back at him. 

"Did you fuck them like this, Professor?" she said with a confounding air of sexually charged innocence.


Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 01



God she was sexy, and yet he despised her. He couldn't help but nod once again. His eyes were fixated on her panties, straining to catch a glimpse of her girlish twat underneath. God he wanted to take her. He couldn't help but entertain the idea that perhaps this was her sick way of coming on to him.

"Yeah, I saw it on your videos." The tight t-shirt encasing her perky breasts came to rest on the arm of the couch. Her panties, and her tight ass were clearly visible now, dangling off the edge. Her head lay sideways on the couch arm as her bright, blue eyes looked at him. 

So she had gotten into his videos. It was mortifying to think that this 19-year-old knew more about his conquests than he did. He was captivated by her display, and disgusted by his arousal. He felt out of control.

"Yes, you're naughty, aren't you? A naughty doggy!" she scolded him a little too loudly, making him nervous that someone on the other side of the door might hear.

Johnson nodded. His cock was stubbornly pushing against the underwear underneath his loose suit pants.

"Aw. I guess you really don't want to go to jail, huh? Now, tonight you're going to come over to my dorm room, aren't you? Are you going to come to my dorm tonight, little doggy?"

Johnson winced at her mocking patronization. He didn't know what to expect anymore. How far was she going to take this?

"Good," she nodded briskly, not bothering to wait for his answer. "I'll see you there at seven--Bowie Hall, room 345. Don't be late, now." Cindy got up and started to gather her things.

Was that it? What the hell she fucking doing here? What was the point of all this? 

"Wait."

"Bad doggy, bad, bad!" Cindy shouted again, dropping everything and stepping toward him. He cringed, actually feeling distressed at what she might do and nervous that people outside the office might hear. She knelt down and grabbed his gray hair, pulling it so that his face was forced to look at her. Her other hand reached under him, recklessly seized his dick and squeezed. He might have doubled over if it hadn't been for her grip on his hair. She leaned down so her strawberry lips were only inches from his. 

"What's the matter, doggy? You wanna fuck?" she squeezed his cock and balls. The promise of masculine pain, just on the edge of her grip frightened him. He fought against the instinct to reach underneath and slap her groping hand away. 

"Damn, Professor." Her voice almost seemed as if she couldn't believe his obstinate boner, which felt to him like it was the size of a greenhouse cucumber. Fuck her! She didn't deserve to make him feel like this.

"God, you're so pathetic," she said with a charged whisper. She kneaded him like he was nothing more than her cock-slave. "Well, if you want to fuck, come on over tonight and we'll see if you deserve it. Don't be late."

- - - -

Dressed in the suit he wore previously, Johnson stepped out of his car in the dormitory parking lot. It was 7:02 pm, and he was late.

Sweat leaked from his forehead. His stomach was tight, and his breathing was laced with fearful butterflies. It was almost intoxicating. His hard on was beginning to return even as he walked through the dorm's lobby and made his way for the stairs. He was confused by her intentions, especially by the last thing she'd said in his office. Somehow it made him extremely nervous.

The din in the dorm was typical of a party school. Rock music thumped throughout the hall, various doors were open and students milled through the littered hallway carrying on like drunk kids who had their parents' house to themselves for the weekend. It was typical for a Friday night. The occasional student wandering by gave him a strange look. Luckily the hallway outside Cindy's room was relatively quiet and empty. He took in the filthy excess of his surroundings and shuddered at what she might have in store for him.

Johnson paused in front of room 345. He realized at that moment that his hands shivered. He simply didn't know what to expect from the tiny bitch. He had hated his subservience earlier, and yet she turned him on. He nervously straightened his suit, wiping off some lint, and finally he started to raise his hand to knock when the door suddenly opened.

Cindy held the door open, looking up at her college professor. Her hair was pulled back tightly into another pony tail. He immediately noticed the bright sheen of the taut blonde hair above her forehead. She wore a pair of very short, blue shorts that exposed her toned upper thighs all the way down her slender calves to her sneakers. Johnson noted with some dread the words embroidered across her breasts on her tight fitting, black T-shirt: "Boy Beater". Cindy took a lolly-pop out of her mouth and bounced up in a slight hop with a smile on her face.

"Professor!" She stretched her body upward and gave him a peck on the cheek, taking him by surprise. "You're a little late, Professor," she finally scolded with a smirk.

He was prepared to offer her money. "Cindy, now listen. I thought we might talk this over, and I think after you hear what I have to say--"

"Professor Johnson, I told you not to be late." Cindy was confoundedly cute, even as she scolded him. Johnson felt his hard on returning despite his best efforts to control himself. "Why don't you get on your hands and knees," Cindy smiled, holding her lolly-pop dismissively to the side.

"What, here?" Johnson said, looking around the empty hallway. He was starting to become panicked. "Now, Cindy--"

"Come on, Professor. I thought you'd made up your mind. Do it."

Johnson was trapped. He didn't dare leave. He looked around and saw no one. The thumping of rock music blared distantly through the halls. Humiliated and vulnerable, he followed her orders.

"Good doggy! Do you want my sucker?" she dangled her glistening lolly pop in front of his face. 

Johnson was mortified, and worried that someone would see him like this. Still, somehow he wanted it. He shook his head no in defiance of his own instincts, but he wanted to taste her mouth on it. 

"Fuck you, bitch." He said it to himself as much as to her. He needed to maintain some dignity.

"Just for that you'll have to beg for it. Can you beg for me little doggy?" Cindy mocked him by raising her hands up like they were a dog's front paws, reaching to its owner. "Come on, get up on your knees and beg."

"Cindy, please. Don't."

"I've got a phone right in here, Professor."

He rose to his knees and lifted his hands to his shoulders, his fingers bent. He felt like a pathetic animal.

"Oh, you're so cute," she fawned. "Why don't you unzip your pants for me."

He couldn't believe it. "No, Cindy. Please."

She shot him a disappointed look. "But I thought you wanted to play with me. I guess you don't though. Bummer." She stepped backwards and silently closed the door in front of him.

Johnson watched the door close and instantly understood his predicament as if for the first time. His heart pounded. He looked up and down the hall. Could he actually do this? She was going to call Tyrney. "Jesus." He didn't know what to do. The bitch was actually going to call him!

Still on his knees, he lightly knocked on the door like a helpless child. "Cindy," he whispered desperately. "Cindy, please." 

The door opened a crack, and Cindy's peered out at him. "Did you take your dick out yet?"

Mortified, he slowly unzipped his pants. His cock was hard. He was utterly shame-ridden.

"Good." She opened the door the rest of the way and watched him. "Now jerk off," she whispered mercilessly. "Do you need a little help?" She reached for something behind the doorframe and grabbed what looked to be a photograph. "Here you go." She held it up to his face. It was a picture of him with a freckled, stick-legged red-head riding his cock.

"Now sit up on your knees and jerk off for me. Don't forget to pant."

Johnson nursed his dick, ignoring the picture and opting to stare at Cindy's slender body instead. God, it felt so good, and so horrible. Nervous sweat seeped from his forehead.

"Yay." She bounced silently as if immensely pleased with herself. "Good, keep jerking your cock, Professor, and pant like a horny dog before I scream and leave you out here alone."

"Shh, please, Cindy." He nervously checked the hallway. His hand massaged his dick while Cindy dismissively licked her sucker and watched him. Despite it all, he wanted to cum. His mind filled with thoughts of role reversal--of making this fucking cunt bark like a bitch while he porked her tiny, puckered anus. His fantasies were instinct, a defense mechanism. In a way, it was the only way his dignity could maintain a foothold.

"Fuck you," he whispered frantically, his eyes leering at her body as if he had no choice.

Her tongue lingered on her sucker as she smiled teasingly at his frustration.

"Okay, that's enough, doggy." Cindy's sneaker painfully kicked at his hand, jerking it away from his urgently unsatisfied rod. He expelled a breath, betraying his need, but resisted giving her the satisfaction of any complaint.

"Do you want it?" She dangled the cherry sucker in front of his face, holding it just out of reach. It was wet with the girl's spit. "Good boy! Come on," she motioned him inside by slapping her hand against her thigh, and then tossed the sucker on the carpet in her dorm room "Go get it!"

Anxious to get out of the hallway, Johnson quickly crawled in with his dick bobbing like a loose, steel appendage between his legs.

- - - -

Johnson looked at the red lolly pop sticking to the panty-littered carpet just below his head and wondered how things had come to this. 

"Rule number one, when Professor Johnson is a bad boy, he'll get punished." Cindy's springy hair bounced as she glanced down at her shirt. "I'm a 'Boy Beater'," she bit her bottom lip in a bashful smile and stretched her shirt off her perky tits to show him the words, "See?" She giggled, and then allowed her tight shirt to bounce back home.

He felt sick to his stomach.

"Rule number two, Professor Johnson does whatever I say. Sit up, Professor." Cindy grabbed a pair of her dirty panties off the floor and slipped his wrists through the leg holes. "Twist your wrists so they're tight."

Johnson moved his arms so that the panties twisted tightly around his wrists, binding them in front of him. He wanted to protest, but it seemed harmless. He could just twist out of them again. At least they were in relative privacy now. Cindy pushed him forward so that he landed on his elbows, the lolly pop positioned below his face.

She pointed to the sucker. "Finish it doggy. No teeth--only your tongue. You need to practice."

He looked at it, disgusted. "Cindy, please."

"Rule number three, Professor Johnson doesn't get to cum until I say." She walked behind him and knelt between his legs--pinning down the pants that were stretched around his calves.

"You'll like this game, Professor." Cindy produced another photograph. This one was of Sarah Jennings. She was sitting on his couch with her bare legs spread wide, her tits peaking over the top of her disheveled blouse and her hands cuffed in front of her. She was holding a bar glass with a fatigued look of surrender on her face. He remembered that night. The strange thrill made him forget where he was for an instant. His cock stiffened even more.

"This is so you don't make a mess on my floor, Professor." She slipped the photograph on the floor under his cock. He then heard some kind of slurping sound behind him, and then felt her wrap her lubed fingers around him.

"Oohhh." He couldn't help it. The feeling of the teenager's hand on his dick was amazing.

"If you break any of the rules, Professor, you go to jail, and I'm pretty sure jail won't feel like this." Her hand started stroking up and down on the thick meat below his belly. "Now, I'm just going to rub your dick with my hand until you lick all the candy off of that lolly pop. Remember, no teeth, you naughty cheater."

Her hand felt so good. She would give him long strokes, and then she would squeeze the head, making it bob up and down as it reached out to meet her fingertips. Each time he came close to coming, she would stop. The panties binding his hands reminded him not to break the third rule by taking over the job himself. The lolly pop seemed to grow bigger before his eyes.

- - - -

Johnson's throat groaned in frustration as his fingers frantically clawed at the filthy carpet below him. He could smell Cindy's dried urine on the panties that were binding his hands together. His elbows were developing rug-burn. His mouth seemed full with strands of cherry flavored hair. He licked at the sucker desperately. His cock was a dangling bundle of desperate nerve-endings, gripped tightly in Cindy's slippery hand. God, it felt so good. If she would just. . . keep. . . going. 

Cindy's hand released him.

"Fuck! Oh-oh-oh!" he shuddered. Johnson shifted his legs frantically, desperate for orgasm--his cum just barely on the precipice of squirting out of his cock--yet she would not allow him to release it. The insidious nature of her game had become clear. 

"Lick your lolly, Professor."

After giving his imminent orgasm a chance to recede, she started yet again. Her hand slowly milked his cock like a cow's tit. Precum oozed out of its hole. Some of it served as lube for her stroking, the rest of it pooled in wet drops onto the photograph of Sarah below his crotch.

Johnson had lost all sense of how long this had been going on.

Cindy was a master cock-teaser--sometimes just faintly rubbing the very tip of his cock with her soft fingertips for minutes at a time--causing him to cry out with need and squirm in an attempt to get away from her. Johnson had become a quivering mess.

"Lick it, doggy. You need your practice."

He lapped his tongue across the lint covered cherry candy as fast as he could. Cindy offered him words of encouragement.

"Is that good, doggy? You wanna lick my pussy like that, Professor?" 

He did, but only to tease her like she was doing to him. He wanted to fuck into her and squirt cum all over her cute face---using her lithe body as a cock-milker until he was satisfied and the spoiled slut was left handcuffed with no way to bring herself off. 

The fucking bitch's hand still kept kneading and rubbing his helplessly teased prick.

Finally, the last of the candy was gone.

"Yay, Professor! Now one more thing." She slid the precum-covered photo below his head. "Lick your goopy juice off of her."

Her fucking fingers kept flicking and rubbing the tip of his cock. He wanted to scream.

"Ooooooohhh. Fuck." His body shuddered, teetering on the edge, and she stopped.

"Come on, lick off your nasty cock-slime, doggy." Her order was harsh, and plain. He was insane with the need to cum. His tongue slid along the photo, gathering his salty precum into his taste buds. He wished it was anyone other than Sarah in the photograph.

"Good boy! Now, Professor, you were an awfully naughty boy getting here late, and for that I'm afraid you'll need to be punished," said Cindy, regretfully. 

Punished? What the fuck! "Let me cum!" he finally pleaded out of pure instinct. "Please, I want to cum." He started to sit up so he could untwist his hands free.

"Ohhh, poor baby. No, no, no." She pushed insistently down on him, keeping him on all fours. "You have to do something first."

- - - -

Her hand held his, and to him it felt like that of a spoiled child, yet this teenager was clearly more world-wise than her bubbly demeanor let on. Just feeling her youth through her hand as she led him like a four year old down the empty hall both intensified his attraction for her, and amplified the humiliation and frustration he was feeling. She opened the door to the communal women's bathroom and led him inside, locking the door behind her.

"Now Professor. I want you to shave. Not to worry, though, I bought you a razor and some shaving cream." She pulled them out of a grocery bag she carried from her room.

Johnson took the cream, wondering what punishment could be worse than what he had just been through. He started lathering up his face.

"No, no, no!" Cindy scolded, frowning.

Johnson was confused, "You said you wanted me to--"

"No, not your face, stupid. Wipe that off. Here," she handed him a towel.

He took the towel and wiped the shaving cream from his face.

"Now, take off your clothes."

"My clothes? No, I. . . ." The mystery of his punishment was starting to come into focus.

"Yes, your pants, your shirt and your underwear. Come on, Mister Johnson." Cindy was starting to get agitated, "I haven't got all night."

Not wanting to test her again, Johnson resigned himself to following her orders.

"Very nice," grinned Cindy, mocking his somewhat imperfect body covered in gray hair. "Now go sit in the bathtub, you burly stud you!"

Johnson maneuvered himself into the tub, ringed with hard water stains. "Cindy, please. Stop."

"Now spread your legs for me. Come on, spread your legs," Cindy placed her small but insistent hands on his knees and pulled his legs apart--causing him to lose his balance and plop, butt first, into the bottom of the tub. She made him lift his legs over the edge so that they were spread wide, revealing his still hard member. "Oooh, are you turned on, Professor?" Cindy cooed at him, mockingly. "Do you have a hard on for me?"

Johnson hated her. 

Even as she asked the ridiculous question, his dick seemed to grow larger. His eyes fixated on her super-tight, "Boy Beater" T-shirt. He needed to cum. He wanted to skull fuck her until her throat juice seeped into the letters covering her tits.

"Oh, how cute! You do have a boner for me, don't you?" She looked at him like a child who'd just gotten her ice cream. "Wow." Her bright eyes gave him a naughty glare. "Well, if you're a good boy, maybe we'll take care of that later." She winked at him fearlessly. She seemed to have become even further empowered by his perpetual arousal around her. It was unsettling. Johnson wanted to leap out of his skin. His mind flooded with filthy images of revenge.

"But," Cindy handed the Professor the razor and shaving cream. "I want you to shave for me first."

Johnson reluctantly started squirting shaving cream over his pubic area. He still held out hope that this was all just some kind of sick game, maybe all she wanted was to fuck him on her own terms. It was a tantalizing thought, but he had to admit that it didn't make any sense. He still hadn't been able to think through what had prompted her to steal the keys out of his office in the first place.

"Why don't you do your legs too," Cindy smiled, turning on the water to the bathtub and handing him another towel. 

"Christ," Johnson whispered, lathering up his hairy legs with shaving cream. His cursed dick was tight and stiff; he wanted to stuff her little pussy so badly he could smell it.

"Wow, you are a real horny-toad aren't you?" She sat on the toilet, opposite the bathtub, watching him run the razor up his hairy leg. He was mortified.

"Oh my God, you're so nasty, Professor." She bit her lip. He could see her getting excited, and her eyes were locked on him. Her hand almost absent-mindedly crept down to her shorts and unsnapped them. "Come on, shave yourself nice and smooth for me." 

His heart beat like a freight train. He was so anxious and excited, he almost nicked his leg with the razor. 

"God. Look at you." Her hand snaked into her shorts and under her white panties. He saw the knuckles of her fingers working deliberately under the material. Johnson felt like nothing more than a demented aid to masturbation for her. Still, her arousal was contagious, even if it was at the expense of his dignity.

"Come on, now. Shave your balls, doggy."




Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 01



He carefully stretched his cream covered sack and scraped the razor around his testicles.

"Good boy." Cindy grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and lifted it up so that her perky nipples popped out from underneath it. She started rubbing one of them along with her cunt--pinching it and stretching it with her fingers. "You want to taste my titty, Professor?"

"Yes." He couldn't help but answer. The awkwardness of shaving underneath his iron cock was almost dangerous.

Her tiny nipple jutted out like a "fuck me" antenna. "Then shave your ass, too." 

Johnson groaned in disgust. 

She teased him until the entire lower half of his body was shorn smooth.

"Get on your hands and knees and come here."

He felt like a crawling animal--more naked than he'd ever felt before. His cock was throbbing. The skin of his balls itched. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He needed to fuck, and here was a beautiful teenager sitting on the toilet diddling herself. He had earned a good fuck after this wholly disgusting act.

"Stay right there. Don't move." She touched herself, seemingly feeding off of his desire for her. Her inviting breast teased him; her smooth legs were wide open and sticking to the toilet. He could feel the cool bathroom air breeze past his freshly shaved ass.

"Oh my God, you're so pathetic." Cindy was losing herself. Her blue eyes locked on his body. He felt so exposed.

"Sit up. Put your hands behind your back. Crawl over here on your knees and lick my nipple, doggy." 

Johnson's dick bobbed. He wanted her. He wanted to take her power away. He moved toward her.

"You keep your grabby hands behind your back, Professor. If you touch me with anything other than your tongue, I swear to God I'll scream."

His shuffling knees bruised against the hard tile. The combination of her girl musk and the dirty stench of the bathroom invaded his nostrils. His tongue reached out and touched her hard nipple. It was heavenly, and yet he hated his desire for it.

"Good. Oh my God. Lap it like a dog, you horny freak." Cindy's words were increasingly urgent. She had transformed before his eyes. He could feel her small body jerking underneath his tongue, the toilet lid jiggled and slapped against the rim as her sticky skin rode the bowl.

Johnson licked at her tit, feeling it bend and wiggle with each flick of his tongue. It was so soft, so young. He hadn't tasted anything like this for so many years. His cock wanted to explode. Instead, Cindy did.

"Oh, fuck. Get me off, dog." Her small body quaked in orgasm. Her arm jerked frantically, her hand buried under her wet panties. He could smell the rising scent of her juices as his tongue grazed along her evasive nipple. "Oohh." She moaned, breathily.

"Okay, wait," she said, her chest rising and falling under his hungry tongue. Her hand grabbed a fist full of his hair, yanked his tongue away from her breast, and threw his head away. "Wait." She recovered. 

Johnson was desperately unsatisfied. Would this night ever end? He sat on his knees next to her. He felt so ignored--like nothing more than a used sex toy.

"I guess you deserve a reward after all, Professor," she said finally, her perky demeanor returning. She poked him in the nose with her little finger. "Let's go back to my room!"

- - - -

"From now on Professor, I want your cock always lubed up and ready to go." Johnson looked at the small bottle with the attached chain Cindy had just tossed him. "Keep that bottle around your neck. Come on, just like this." She grabbed it from his hand and wrapped the chain over his head. "Well, go ahead, lube up your prick." Cindy had a particular way of emphasizing the naughty words, as if she was somehow deliberately defying authority when she said them.

Johnson extricated some lube from the bottle and timidly began rubbing his throbbing cock. After watching her orgasm, he desperately wanted one of his own. The feeling was revolting. The words on her T-shirt seemed larger than before now--"Boy Beater". The odd freckle and tiny soft hairs on her arms made him wish he could feel her hand pumping around his shaft once again--only this time to complete the job.

"Yeah. Make it all slippery wet, Professor." Cindy's bubbly demeanor had again begun deteriorating. "Lay back on that bed." 

Johnson immediately lay on his back on the bottom bunk of the bed, still rapidly jerking off his tent pole. Finally, perhaps she would allow him to cum. Cindy walked over to the bed, where she tucked under the top bunk. She threw one of her legs around Johnson's upper torso and sat on his chest. Johnson's arm wrapped around her waist, his hand still slipping up and down on his cock. He strangely relished the weight of Cindy's body straddling his rib cage. She thrust the words on her tits into his face. 

"Good boy. Slurp that dick, Professor." Her breathy lips practically touched his lobe and her slender arm stretched to the head of the bed to hold the mounds of her chest over his eyes. 

Johnson could feel the baby smoothness of Cindy's upper thigh against his pumping forearm. Her blonde pony tail dangled lightly over top of his head, the slight perfumed smell of her conditioner penetrating his nose.

Cindy once again focused Johnson's attention when she breathed into his ear, "What does my shirt say, Professor?"

Johnson's hand was a blur on his dick; he was so close, yet so far from really feeling this girl. Humiliated, he allowed himself to utter the words. 

"B-b-b. . . Boy Beater," he stammered--his barely audible speech broken by the emphatic cock stroking behind her.

"What's that, Professor?"

"B-b-boy Beater," he said, more strongly this time. He felt filthy, used, humiliated. His orgasm was only a few strokes away.

"That's right, Professor. You like boy beaters like me?" she taunted him. "Are you my naughty, shaved little boy?" Cindy's bubbly image had drained away completely, leaving only fruity combination of Cindy's strawberry lip-gloss and the fresh scent of the body lotion trapped in her T-shirt.

"No. No." Johnson started shuddering underneath the teenager.

"Yes you are." She grunted into his ear. Her shaky breath whispered through her teeth. "You wanna get laid?"

"Yes!" He was so close. He couldn't stop stroking. He was too far over the edge now.

"Well, maybe tomorrow--if you're a good boy."

"Oh my God, " Johnson choked. His entire body shuddered and convulsed underneath his young student. "Oh my God," he repeated, louder now. His steel dick erupted its first load of cum behind the girl on top of him. The teenager bucked and bounced slightly over his violently shuddering legs. It felt as if they were spring loaded and directly attached to his ejaculatory muscles. His hand squeezed with all its might as another jet of sperm flooded out of his cock. Her pungent combination of perfume and girl musk invaded his nostrils; his metamorphosis from feared Professor to a naked, shaved, cock jerking boy-toy was made abundantly clear by the contents of the writing across the small mounds of her breast. 

Cindy grabbed the Professor's hair and pulled his head back; sloppy, wet slurping sounds filled the room along with his constricted cries of humiliating pleasure.

"You're my naughty jerk-squirter, Professor." 

Johnson grunted and shuddered in orgasm--pinned down on the bed by his 'Boy Beater'. "Oh no. No." Finally his cock eruptions ended as his conscious mind began to regain control.

"Good boy, Professor!" Cindy said brightly, instantly regaining her child-like exuberance. She sat up, and then immediately wrapped her leg back around and stood beside the bed. She swung her head around and looked down toward her cute ass. "Oopsy! You squirted your cum on me, Professor. That wasn't very nice!" She turned around and showed him her bottom. Most of his cum had squirted onto the hem of her shorts, and was dripping down her thighs. 

"Ew. Gross, Professor," she said with slight scowl in his direction. He couldn't help but feel a little satisfied at this. If his dick wasn't able to touch her, at least his cum was.

"God, Professor, how much did you cum?" Cindy turned around, trying to decide what to do. "I know," she announced, "Since you got your horny sperm all over me, why don't you get it off." Standing beside the bed, she bent one leg over his head so that her cum covered thigh hovered over his face. "Lick it off, Professor," Cindy ordered with complete seriousness.

"Cindy, please. . ." he started to say, just as a thick drop of his sperm dripped off the teenager's leg landing just to the side of his nose. He could feel it slithering down his cheek; the deep musk of his own semen was mixing with the strong odor emanating from the edge of her shorts.

"Come on, don't you want to lick my pretty leg, you horny old man?" She looked down across her leg and into his eyes. "Lick it just like you did my titty. Come on, be a good boy."

Johnson felt another dollop of sperm land on his chin. He wanted to wipe his face off.

"No. No!" she held his arms down with her hands. "Lick it off, Professor."

Johnson, feeling completely debased, slowly stuck his fluttering tongue out and licked Cindy's thigh. His salty cum entered his throat, tickling it. She made him do the same with her other leg, all while he felt his cum slithering down the side of his cheek and chin.

"Good boy," she said after he finally finished. She lifted her leg off the bed and forced him to eat what remained on his face. He'd never tasted his own cum before, and Cindy giggled at him when it made him cough. 

"Doesn't that taste good?" she ridiculed him. 

If he had his way, he'd never taste it again.

"Now Professor, I think it's time you got dressed and went home."

Was this it? Was this all that she wanted from him? He slowly got dressed in his suit. 

"I have some homework for you, Professor."

Homework? Johnson looked at her. "Please, Cindy. What do you want?"

"Oop, you missed some." Her finger picked up a little errant sperm from her inner thigh. "Open up, doggy."

Before he had a chance to, Cindy pressed her wet finger between his lips and slid it along his tongue. He wanted to bite her finger off, but instead he obediently swallowed her offering.

"Good little cum-boy!"

He wanted to slap her.

"Now, I'll come over to your house at around 7:00 pm tomorrow, Professor. Before that you have to have a few things done for me."

"Cindy--"

"Oh, you just shush. It'll be fun! First thing you have to do is shave before I get there, just like you did today." She picked up the grocery bag that held Johnson's new razor. "Smooth as a baby's bottom, 'k, doggy?" She then picked up a videotape from her bedside table, dropped it in the bag, and handed it to him. "Then you have to watch this. She's really pretty, so you should like it. No getting cum all over it, now!"

Who did this fucking bitch think she was? He marveled at her lack of fear. There was no weakness in her. No apologies. His indignities tonight, and his "homework" tomorrow spoke of a larger plan, and he couldn't even begin to fathom what it was. After what he'd been through already, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

"Don't forget the rules, doggy. Oh, and you should be getting a big package tomorrow afternoon, too. No peeking though, it's a surprise!"

On his way home, he looked apprehensively at the videotape she had given him. His knees were sore, his balls itched, his throat tickled, and his forearms were red with rug burn. The otherwise innocuous, even jocular phrase repeatedly kept taunting him--gnawing at his self-esteem, questioning his very identity as a man--"Boy Beater."

He hated her.

To be continued. . .



Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 02



© 2004 by MLyons

Author's Note: The following story and the characters within it are purely a product of my imagination, and they are meant to be enjoyed only as a fantasy. Any similarity to real people or events is unintentional. 

Reproduction of this story in any form without express written permission from the author is prohibited.

Cindy--The story so far: Cindy Kelly, a mysterious and cock-teasingly cute college freshman, revealed her acquisition of some incriminating bank records of one Professor Stephen Johnson. She used these documents (which she stole along with several other items from his house) to blackmail Johnson for an unknown purpose. Johnson was not only guilty of embezzlement, in years previous he had videotaped several sexual encounters between himself and his students--the most memorable of them being a girl named Sarah Jennings. 

Cindy teased Johnson about being a "naughty doggy" and then had him act the part in his office. She then had him over to her dorm room where she made him jerk off in the hallway, teased him to the brink of orgasm while he licked her lolly pop on the floor, and then masturbated herself as she watched him shave from the waist down. Eventually she made him jack off to orgasm with her sitting on his chest, finally forcing him to eat his own cum from the back of her thighs. She warned him of a present that would arrive the next day, and gave him a videotape to watch as "homework".

Chapter 2: 'A Special Present for Professor Stephen Johnson.'

The large pink label on the side of the wooden crate was hard to miss, and Johnson knew immediately that it could only be from Cindy.

Johnson hardly believed the driver of the delivery truck, who told him the crate had been stored locally, as is, for several months when instructions came yesterday to deliver it this afternoon.

Several months? 

"What the fuck is going on here?" he found himself saying aloud.

The crate was about as tall as he was, and made about a two foot square footprint on the ground, it had a hinged door that was locked shut with a pad lock, and it was heavy enough that he would need to get his hand-truck to move it into the garage. 

Between his itchy nether-regions and his troubled reflections on last night's indignities, Johnson had not gotten much sleep. What more Cindy wanted from him, he didn't know, and the crate did nothing but add more apprehension to the mystery. 

The only possible answer lie in the videotape she had given him to watch. As the time of Cindy's arrival grew nearer, Johnson knew he needed to get it over with. He hadn't felt this nervous in years. He placed the tape in his VCR, and sat in the large, plush chair in his entertainment room.

It was a copy of the last tape he'd made of Sarah Jennings. He watched his younger self join Sarah on the leather couch in his den. She was wearing a black mini-skirt and a revealing white blouse with buttons that strained to contain her ample breasts. She looked like a slut, and he remembered how much he enjoyed having Sarah dress that way. After some unceremonious tit groping while he tasted her tongue, the younger Johnson slid his hand along her thigh and underneath her tiny skirt, eliciting an immediate, breathy response. 

Johnson remembered the conflict with which Sarah would react to his less than subtle advances, and how much she seemed to hate loving his power games. He watched himself cuff Sarah's hands behind her back and spread her legs--teasing her shaved clit with the toys he'd set aside for her. His cock slowly slipped into Sarah's gleaming body, and her increasing need began to get the better of her. She begged him to release her hands so she could touch her clit. 

The video continued and Johnson's cock grew as the details of that unforgettable night started to come back into focus.

- - - -

"Please, Professor Johnson? Please?" Sarah repeated--begging for orgasm with her dutifully mousy voice. Her sweaty body struggled against her handcuffs.

"No." he said coldly. He stopped teasing himself and started fucking into her. She was so wet, his cock slipped in and out of her bald pussy as if she was built to service it. His hands grabbed her thighs, and he pushed her smooth legs apart so that her long heels pointed straight up toward the ceiling. The smell of his musky sweat mixing with hers assaulted his nostrils.

"Please," she whispered. "Come on, let me go. Let me go!" Sarah's little body jerked wetly against the leather underneath her. 

His cock pumped her unprotected cunt, and he relished in his dominance over his student. He knew the next couple days would be his last with her, and he wanted to make them worthwhile.

"No, no, Sarah, you just get fucked and wait your turn." He couldn't help himself. It was just so delicious to treat her like a slut, especially when she was at such a pitch. He could see the reaction of distaste in her eyes, but he had convinced himself that somewhere deep down she loved being treated this way.

"No, please, Stephen, I want to cum with you. Please!"

"Bad little girl," he ignored her. He was becoming lost in a world of submissive girl-bliss. His dick slammed into her thoroughly fucked pussy.

"Stephen. Stephen!" 

He released one of her thighs and covered her mouth with his hand. Her arms struggled against her handcuffs, trying to get free. He liked it when she struggled, especially when she was struggling not to get away, but to get off. He knew he should be nicer to her, but he couldn't help himself. Just now, he wanted the thrill of complete control over her lithe body.

"Yeah, you fucking whore!" He was in his own demented world now. Her ample tits bounced tightly with each fuck, her blouse partially unbuttoned and stretched below them. Her tight miniskirt had long abandoned its original function, now simply a thin wisp of material draped under her belly button. Finally, her calves were now worthless stems, pointing upward; the stiletto slut-pumps he made her wear shook and jerked with each monstrous thrust of his cock. At this moment, to him she was nothing more than a pliable, slippery cunt that he was going to use as a sperm receptacle.

"Slut!" his hoarse voice grunted abruptly. Drool escaped his lips and snaked down to land in a pool on her perspiring stomach. His dark fantasies of control had once again become reality. He jerked his cock into the girl's pussy, and finally, pure, selfish pleasure engulfed him. He felt his first sublime jets of cum pumping into her. "God, yes!" He continued pinning her used body against the leather couch as he coated the insides of her pussy with his semen.

"Ohhh, God," he said finally, regaining his senses and uncovering her mouth. He remained buried inside her pussy, enjoying his post-orgasm sensitivity as she looked up at him with a hint of resignation. She smiled faintly with disappointment in her young eyes. 

He was sure she loved it

"My turn?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

"Definitely," he smiled. "Come here." He grabbed the handcuff key from the table next to the couch. He released her wrists, but only long enough to swing her hands forward and snick the handcuffs back closed in front of her.

"What is this? Come on take these off, Stephen."

"No, I want to see you get off with them on like a good girl. And did I say you could stop calling me 'Professor'?" He wanted to remain in control, even if only for a little while longer.

Her eyes were wide with a combination of lust and frustration.

"You're sick, Stephen," she chuckled warily at him, but she gave in, demonstrating some of that fun-loving innocence he so enjoyed about her. "Fuck, I need to cum."

She lowered her shapely legs and rested her heels on the floor, her knees spread wide. He smiled to himself, proud of what a slut she'd become. Thinking back on how shy and unhappy she was back when they first met, and now seeing her handcuffed and playfully on the edge of orgasm gave him a sick sense of accomplishment. He was really going to miss her.

She reached her fingers down to her slit, and started fingering herself with her bound hands.

"Hold on, Sarah." He got up and grabbed a bar glass from behind his desk and handed it to her. "Hold this under your pussy."

Her face suddenly turned timidly sour. "What?"

"I want to see my cum drip out of you while you get yourself off." It was a sick idea, he knew, but he loved pushing her limits. 

"You're mine, aren't you, Sarah?"

"Y. . . Yes." her shaky voice betrayed a thrill of subservient excitement.

"Good, then do as I say, slut."

"Okay. Okay," she said naughtily. With her legs spread wide, she bent forward and held the crystal bar glass so that it would catch the drippings from her pussy. The chain of her handcuffs stretched across her splayed cunt lips. Her other hand rubbed her clit wildly. He could see the girl trying to get herself excited again. He was sure he knew how to help her.

"Tell me what you are, Sarah." He quipped, reveling in the fact that she hated, yet relished being debased.

She looked at him. He could see a dollop of his cum drip into the bar glass as she flicked her clit. Her eyes lowered to the floor. Her arousal through her shame was palpable. "I'm a. . . . I'm a slut."

He felt exhilarated. "Good girl. Are you are little grade slut?" he pressed, forcing her into character.

"Yes." Her slender fingers moved faster now, as another few drops of the girl-juice, man-seed mixture dripped out of her cunt. "I'm a little grade slut," she whispered breathily.

"Good little girl," he bit his lip, still fascinated by the transformation he'd seen many times before, from an abnormally quiet and mysterious girl into a clit-flicking, thigh-shuddering, cum-slut.

"Yeah, are you daddy's little grade slut?" He grinned with an intense, devilish thrill. He knew how much she hated her neglectful father (whom she suspected of cheating on her mother), but Johnson loved playing with her anger, her strange sense of daughterly slut-rebellion, as if she was being a bad girl to spite him.

"Fuck." Her gentle voice trembled as she looked at Johnson with both lust and charged defiance. Her breath whistled unsteadily through her teeth and lips. He never tired of seeing her get off this way. She was so deliciously complex. Her legs were shaking uncontrollably underneath her. 

"Oh God." Her whole body jerked in time with her frantic arm movements. "Oh God. Oh my god. Fuck you!" she glared at him with tears flowing out of her eyes, obviously troubled by the mention of her father and yet on the cusp of orgasm. He looked at the young girl, knowing she was, at that moment, a slave to her own sexual demons. He could only imagine what was going through her mind. 

"Oh yes. Yes. Yes! Jesus! Fuck!" She finally let out a restrained, shuddering moan, and a few more drops of diluted sperm managed to make it into the glass before it slipped from her limp fingers onto the carpet.

"Mm, mm." He sat back in his chair, enjoying the filthy display. He wanted to her to stay in character. "Good little slut, now pick up that glass before it all spills."

Sarah reached down with her weak arms and picked up the glass, holding it in her restrained hands. Luckily, none of its contents had spilled out. She looked at him apprehensively, her face flushed, but showing a fatigue--even an impatience--that wasn't there before. 

"What do you want," she stated meekly, holding the glass and looking at it dubiously.

"Oh, baby, don't be like that. Be a little slut for me." He saw that the spark in her weary eyes was going out. It would now be not so much a test of what she would do to satisfy her sexual need, as what she would do to satisfy him. He couldn't stop now; his power was intoxicating. She would do it--he could see it in her eyes.

"Drink my spunk, grade slut. That'll get you you're A." He flashed her an evil smile, thinking she would enjoy it just like she had come to enjoy all their other games. 

Her breathing was heavy. Her dark brown curls wetly lay over her forehead, her face flushed in a post orgasmic rush. She frowned at the glass, and looked back at him. He knew she was working it out, deciding whether she'd go through with it--fighting with her shame and balancing it against her desire to please a man she thought she loved. It was thrilling.

"You want to give daddy that A, don't you, princess?" he teased mercilessly. His spent cock already felt twinges of life again. "Answer me, baby."

"Okay." Her voice was barely audible--defeated. She looked at the glass. His sticky sperm crept down the inner surface that had rested on the carpet, and a slimy mixture of cum and pussy juice pooled on the bottom. She wore an expression of fatigued worry and disgust. He could see her bottom lip shaking ever so slightly. She looked up at him with broken eyes. "Yes, Professor," she repeated more brightly this time, obviously trying to get back into character.

"Good girl." The thought of his fresh sperm swimming around in her tummy was intoxicating.

She tried to smile as she shakily tilted the glass toward her waiting mouth. 

"Good girl," he repeated.

He saw the thick liquid slithering out of the glass. He imagined her excitement and humiliation, her breath echoing against its shallow walls. She poured his cum past her smeared lips and onto her tongue until it pooled into a clear-white mass that immediately started slipping down into her throat. 

"Now, swallow your Professor's seed you little sperm-slurper." The defeated look on her pretty face sent a chill down his spine. At once he felt so disgusting, and so very powerful. "Give me a nice thank you smile!"

Sarah's eyes dropped to the floor. She finally gulped it all down at once. She clearly labored not to immediately gag it back up. No smile was forthcoming, only the humiliated face of a confused girl. As soon as she finished swallowing, she started coughing.

"Doesn't that taste good?" he ridiculed her.

- - - -

Johnson's cock throbbed. 

Sarah had been special. By the time he had met her, ten years ago, he was miserable, disillusioned with the University system, and all he thought about was sex and money. She had made him care about more than that for a brief period, and somehow he had developed more of an attachment to her, and she to him, than he had intended. Eventually, however, his sexual urges overpowered his affections for Sarah. She, more than any of the other students he had seen during those years, was a perfect match for his dark side. Even now, he wished that he'd been able to videotape her final, amazing encounter with him, only days after she had eaten his sperm.

He sat watching her in a private moment on the tape as she pulled her miniskirt back down and buttoned up her wrinkled blouse. She guiltily appraised the mess of sex toys that still littered the floor around her. Her eyes were sad, but her face was flushed. 

Johnson wondered fleetingly what it would have been like if he could have made their relationship work. Perhaps he'd have been a happier person. He knew it was impossible though. He had needed to end it for her sake. He missed her. He missed how young she used to make him feel, but most of all he missed forcing her to love the deviant things he used to do to her.

No one else seemed interesting to him after Sarah. Bitterness and misery slowly became a way of life, and he had practically no patience or compassion for anyone anymore. He wanted to make what money he could, through whatever means necessary, and try to save for a comfortable retirement.

He shook himself out of his self-indulgent reflections, and wondered why Cindy had chosen this tape for him to watch. The last part of the tape brought back stomach-churning memories of his disgusting submission to her the previous night. Perhaps the tape was simply Cindy's sick justification for making him eat his own cum. Still, he couldn't help but wonder at her motives.

Looking at the time, Johnson suddenly remembered the other "homework assignment" she had given him. After running the gamut of emotion from apprehension to outright rage, Johnson decided he had better follow his student's orders and shave the lower half of his body again. It was awkward and mortifying, but at least this time she wasn't sitting right in front of him, getting off on it. Even when he'd asked Sarah to do it, those many years ago, he at least had the decency not to watch her.

Finally, at around 7:00 pm, he heard a car pull into his driveway. When he peeked out the window like a nervous child, he saw a modest white Toyota. Cindy sat in the driver's seat with the dome light on. 

She looked to be composing herself--taking deep breaths while she seemed to give herself a pep talk in the rearview mirror. Her young countenance had the look of a determined young girl, but still so bright eyed. She looked almost as if she was scolding herself, wagging her finger at her reflection. If he wasn't so terribly anxious about the whole situation, and aware of what she had been capable of the previous night, he would have found the display heart-meltingly cute. 

He longed to hear what she was saying. Whatever it was, he could tell as he watched her private moment that she wasn't just playing a role around him. She was real. He anxiously rubbed his hand over his damp face. 

She applied a little last minute makeup as she rubbed her lightly shaded lips together, and he stepped back from the window before she saw him. He paced nervously and couldn't catch his breath--trying to figure some way out of all this. He was sick at the idea of having to grovel to this little brat all night. 

"Hi Professor!" she said brightly. Unlike yesterday, tonight she wore makeup, complete with just enough eye shadow and classy lip color to subtly accentuate her best features. A shiny black barrette held her lazy curls behind her shoulders.

"Hello, Cindy." He simply didn't know how to feel. Johnson was glad he'd decided to wear one of his suits. Her silky white blouse rested delicately on her breasts, and her small knees just peaked out below her black skirt. A pair of not- too-modest high heels rounded out the pretty picture.

"Do you like my outfit, Professor?" she asked, half pouting at him. "I thought since you were such a good little boy last night that I'd dress up for you. Do you like it?" She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him inquisitively.

Johnson's cock was already talking to him. He couldn't believe it. Soon enough she'd no doubt have him groveling on the floor, but right now his dick was hardening like lead balloon. 

"Yes. I do," was all he could manage.

"Do you?" She squinted her eyes and studied his face. Before Johnson could register what was happening, Cindy planted her small hand into his crotch, groping through his suit pants with her fingers to feel his stiffening dick. He felt her squeezing haphazardly at his balls and shaft--testing him--knowing he couldn't do a thing about it. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to. 

"Oh, goody!" She looked almost relieved, but giddy at the same time. Her hand wrapped around his trousers to grasp his rigid member. "You do like it! You naughty old man!" Her slender fingers squeezed and massaged him. "You're three times my age, Professor." She looked up at him with mock disappointment. He couldn't help himself, God what he wouldn't have given to turn the tables and fuck that sweet smile right off her prick-teasing face. 

"Come on, let's go in and see if you were a good boy for me." It was awkward and humiliating, having to take measured, small steps through his house as she steered him via her grip on his testicles into the living room. She finally released him and plopped her nubile frame onto the couch, her legs bent underneath her. "Undo your pants, Professor."




Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 02



Johnson sighed. His lingering hopes of keeping some shred of dignity tonight were quickly vanishing. "Cindy, why can't you just tell me what you want?" he asked, trying to get her to be reasonable.

"Professor, come on." She whined. "We've been through this, and I saw your dick last night, don't you remember? Now don't be shy, and be a good little boy. Drop your pants. I want to see if you shaved for me." Her voice was firm, but playful as if this was all some perverted child's game.

Johnson slumped his head with helplessness. He finally unbuckled his belt, and let his pants fall to the floor around his ankles. His loose boxers weren't discreet enough to hide his boner.

"Yay. Those legs look sexy." She looked up and smiled, her light hair bouncing down the back of her neck. "Now, lemme see your wiener, Professor. Are you all lubed for me?"

Johnson immediately felt his heart racing in panic. He couldn't bring himself to sleep with the lube bottle on last night, and he'd forgotten to put it back around his neck.

"Come on, Professor, don't you like to show your big cock to cute little girls?" She looked up at him, pouting.

Johnson knew he had no choice. He slipped the waistband of his boxers down his thighs where they dropped to join his pants.

"Aawww. It's so cute that you're all hard for me, Professor," she said as if she was praising her kitten. "But it's not lubed up. Why aren't you ready for me, Mister Johnson?"

"I. . . I forgot. I'm sorry." He was mortified having to apologize to this teenager as if he was a four year old.

"Well, lube it up, Professor," she said impatiently. "Lemme see you do it." She sat there as cute as a button.

"I. . . I left it in the bedroom."

"Well, go get it, stupid." She scolded, frowning. "Leave your pants there."

He threaded his shoes out of his pants, his cock bobbing helplessly in front of her. 

He started walking down the hall as she yelled after him. "What did I tell you, doggy? That bottle should be around your neck. Come on, hurry up!" She clapped her hands to liven his step.

He fumbled worriedly through his nightstand to retrieve the bottle, and then returned to the living room with it, seething with anger at this princess bitch.

"Well, put your bottle on, and lube it up, Professor."

He was embarrassed and his nerves were raw, but he was outrageously horny for her and desperate to teach her a lesson. He squirted the slippery juice into his hand and started rubbing his cock.

"Good boy," she smiled. "Now get on your hands and knees. You didn't think you'd get away with not slicking up did you, Professor?"

He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, bending over into a doggy position. His stiff dick hung down toward the floor between his legs as Cindy stood up somewhere behind him.

"Come on; stroke your cock, Professor. Be a good boy. Remember no cumming." 

He grabbed his dangling cock with one hand and began rubbing up and down on it, with his other hand holding his upper body off the floor. He couldn't get over being in this degrading position. The arm holding him up almost buckled when he felt Cindy's hand slap hard against his bare, shaved ass.

"Bad boy!" the sharp edge in Cindy's voice almost frightened the old man. "Bad Professor!" Her dainty hand slapped hard against his ass cheeks repeatedly. "Bad, bad bad, bad!" she shouted. "Are you stroking your dick, you filthy doggy? Bad, bad, bad boy!" Her slaps stung harshly for such a small girl, but it was his feeling of utter submission that made the ordeal so disgusting to him. 

Cindy smacked him and treated him like he'd been a naughty child at recess. Even so, he couldn't help but feel his cock hardening in his slicked hand while his lube bottle swung below his neck like he was a mangy Saint Bernard. His own body was out of his control. He would have given anything to jump up and grab Cindy by her blonde curls, force her over the couch and plunge his cock into her bitchy twat. His humiliation was terrible, and his ass continued to sting from the force of Cindy's punishment. His arm started to bend and his chest started lowering to the floor.

"No, no. You stay up here." Johnson suddenly felt Cindy's hand grab a handful of his gray hair. She pulled his head back harshly and continued administering his spanking--seemingly throwing her entire body into the force of the blows. His head jerked back with each final, measured swing. 

"Naughty. Naughty. Naughty. Stupid. Professor!" She finally stopped and released his hair, pushing forward on his head like she was throwing it away. His arm finally gave out and he slumped his chest to the floor. His ass was actually sore, and he was sure it was red. He could hear her heavy breathing behind him. His hand, almost involuntarily continued stroking his dangling cock.

"Okay, Professor, that's enough." Her lighthearted air slowly returned underneath her breathy voice.

"Ohhh," he moaned. The sting of his ass had somehow further sensitized his cock. His hand felt so good, he wanted to just release and be done with it. 

"Professor, stop jerking your cock, now." He felt her shoe snake between his legs behind him. The straps on the top of her foot rubbed against his shaved balls, in warning.

He stopped, and the rest of his body slumped to the floor. He realized how pathetic he had become.

"Go out to my car and bring in the bags from the back seat," Cindy walked around so that she stood in front of him. "No peeking though, you naughty snooper!" Her calves were flexed in response to her black heels.

Johnson stood up and started to pull his pants back on. 

"No Professor, no pants. Your bottom's all shiny red. I want everyone to see what a bad little boy you've been." Her condescending voice of innocent disappointment cut through him like a knife. He was nothing less than terrified to go out to his driveway without pants.

"Cindy, I won't go out there like this. If people see me like this, with your car out front, and piece together what's going on. . . ." His driveway was relatively secluded, surrounded by high hedges, but the neighbors were often out walking their dogs at this time of night. If they looked, they could see Cindy's car from the street.

"Professor, don't be such a little baby," Cindy retorted with childish annoyance. "Do you want me to treat you wike a widdle baby awl night?" she mocked him with her best baby voice, but with serious eyes. She paused, purposefully waiting for his answer.

"No, but. . . ." He was incensed.

"I didn't think so. No 'buts' Professor. Go on then." Cindy gave him a single hard slap on his ass, causing him to involuntarily jump at the sting. Johnson couldn't see anyone outside, and he shuddered to think of what Cindy might make him do if he refused. He decided to risk walking out to her car.

He skittered out to his driveway like an embarrassed child, hoping to God no one walked by. He heard voices on the other side of the shrubs as he reached the car--some argument about where one of the neighbor's dogs had decided to do his business. He was terrified, and moved as quickly as he could. He carried in two paper grocery bags of substantial weight, but did not risk looking inside them. He could hear Cindy tittering at him from the doorway as she watched.

"You're so cute, Professor," she giggled gleefully. He worried that they might hear her, but their argument continued unabated. The evening had just begun, and already he longed for its end.

She grabbed one of the grocery bags that he'd dropped off on the couch. "Now, Professor you got your big surprise package today, right?"

"Yes, it's in the garage. What the fuck is it?" he asked without thinking.

"Shh. You didn't open it did you?" she warned with a pout.

"No. I couldn't, it's padlocked."

"Yay! Good! Okay, well, you're going to have fun tonight, Professor. I promise, and if you're a good boy, I'll let you squirt some more of your dirty goo out of your dick." She said it as if she was offering him candy. "First, though, you need to change." Cindy grabbed some clothing out of the bag she was holding.

- - - -

"Your cute little dick likes me, Professor." Cindy giggled at him, watching him sit down on the couch as he nursed his embarrassingly rigid member. He knew that his need just played into her hands. He couldn't help it. At that moment, Cindy looked like a perfect piece of fuck-meat to him, if only he could take her.

Instead of a full suit, Johnson now wore only a brown netted tank top over his chest. Otherwise naked, he looked like a half-dressed, middle-aged football jock after practice. Embroidered on the front of his jersey was another of her fucking word-quips: "Cindy's Slick Prick." He had looked at it in the mirror and almost retched with humiliation knowing he would probably have to wear this objectifying outfit all night.

"Yeah, this'll be fun!" she reassured him. "So, you like my outfit, huh Professor?"

Johnson was caught between arousal and anger. The sense of the unknown was driving him crazy, and all this fucking little bitch seemed to want was to embarrass him.

"Cindy--dammit!"

"Come on Professor, play with me! What kinds of girls do you like to fuck?" Her slender body sat in a plush chair opposite the couch. She crossed her legs, and her black skirt rose up on her thighs.

Johnson's cock awoke with renewed life. He just couldn't help it. His breath quickened into shorter spurts as his eyes fixed on her bare calves.

"Do you like good girls, Professor?" Cindy noticed where his gaze had landed. She touched her skirt with her fingers and slid the material farther up her thigh for him. Her heels forced her toes to point while they dangled below her. "Do you?" she prompted.

"Wh. . .What do you mean?" His shaky voice disgusted him.

"You know what I mean, Slick Prick!" 

The way she said the name burned into him. It felt disgustingly apt as he rubbed his cock, wanting release. 

"Your secretary, Miss Erickson, she has nice long legs, doesn't she, Professor. Do you like to stare at them all day? Is that why you hired her?" Cindy joined the professor by looking down at her legs--showing them to him.

"No." His shallow breathing and his rapid cock rubbing betrayed his excitement.

"Oh, come on Professor, tell me the truth. You chose her cuz she's a hot pair of legs, didn't you? I've seen those skirts she wears. You like it when those hot legs go and get you coffee, don't you?" 

Johnson couldn't help but lust after Cindy's smooth skin--the shape of her tight thighs, and the curves of her dangling calves with one or two barely visible freckles. Cindy continued taunting the covetous old man. "You like it when Miss Erickson serves you like a good girl, don't you? Answer me, little Slick Prick."

"Yes. . ." he whispered. He couldn't help it. It was true. "God yes." Erickson was a cold tease of the highest order.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, Professor. She looked like your type." Cindy giggled, her dangling leg shaking lightly. "Is she a good dick-cushion, Professor? Is Miss Erickson a hot fuck?" 

He couldn't get used to hearing such lewd things escape the lips of this petite teenager. 

"I. . . I don't know." Miss Erickson might have been a bitch to be tamed, but Johnson had lost his capacity and patience for charm over the years.

"Ohhhh, poor Professor. You didn't get a chance with Miss Erickson did you?" she chided. "She's not very nice, is she, Professor? You wanted to fuck her though, huh?" Johnson could see Cindy's light fingers start to rub up her calf and thigh, making him wish he could feel her. "You wanted to spread her long, stockinged legs apart and bend her over your desk and fuck her like a frigid meat-slut, didn't you?"

"God, yes." Her filthy language penetrated Johnson's psyche. Where had she learned these words? He was lost in the moment. Precum was regularly oozing out of his dick, helping rejuvinate the lube on his shaft.

Cindy suddenly uncrossed her legs, holding them maddeningly together, and lowered her skirt back down to the top of her knees. "That's too bad."

"Wait." Johnson was flummoxed; the objects of his immediate desire had just been taken from him. "Wait!"

"Oh, you're so cute!" she said brightly. "But I don't think you like the good girls anyway, Professor. I think I know what you like." She gave him a dirty smile as she stood up from the chair. "Wait just a minute. I have another surprise for you. Don't you dare have an orgasm, while I'm gone, Mister! It'll ruin your whole evening." 

Her silky skin looked good enough to taste, and Johnson caught himself licking his lips almost involuntarily. He hoped she wouldn't notice.

She skittered toward the bathroom with one of the paper bags in her hand. "I'll be right back."

- - - -

Precum continued to ooze out of Johnson's cock. He didn't know what else to do while Cindy was doing God knows what in the bathroom. He had continued lightly rubbing his dick on the couch, but it had softened up a little in the last couple minutes. His mind ran on and on about having to be in this ridiculous situation. He held out hope that this whole affair wouldn't turn out so badly, but his stomach was still sick with the idea of the phrase emblazoned across his chest.

Cindy opened the bathroom door. As he saw the bottom half of her leg creep out from behind it, Johnson tried to prepare himself. This time it was tightly wrapped with a thin, black strap criss-crossing from the top of her tall heels almost to her knee. 

"I know what you like, Professor." She rounded the bathroom door and revealed herself.

Cindy's beautiful face and make up were the same, but her outfit was over the top. Her pair of strappy heels was only the beginning. She also wore a tight mini-skirt, revealing as much leg as possible without giving away any of the goodies between her thighs. Her flat navel was bare up to a strip of black elastic material that stretched across her perky tits. Over her shoulders and tube top laid a green see-through tank top. Her arms rested on her hips, and her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail courtesy of a silk scarf that had been woven into it. Finally, she wore a necklace with small gold letters resting across her chest, "Skank".

"You like sluts, don't you Professor?" she smirked.

"Oh my God," Johnson instinctively reacted. He was convinced this girl was put on this earth simply to drive him insane. She seemed to know more about him than even he did. His hand instinctively grabbed his cock.

"Oooh, yeah." She started walking toward the spellbound man. "I told you this was going to be fun! Yeah, you like to play with little sluts, don't you? Tell me." She stood grinning directly in front of him with her legs slightly spread apart.

"Fuck, yes." Johnson had lost his sense of self. He'd have said anything she wanted if there were a chance she would let him stuff his dick into her.

"Such a bad boy." She stood there, her eyes glued to him--watching him stroke his dick as if he was her toy. Her lips parted, she breathed through her mouth with a look of consciously restrained arousal. Johnson longed to know what was going through her mind.

He could smell the light scent of lotion radiating off of Cindy's skin. He concentrated his attention on her shaded lips and tied hair, longing for the feeling he would get from stuffing his dick down her tight throat. He could hear Cindy's breath shortening as she watched him stroke his rock hard member.

"Yeah, I think you better stop touching your dick for now, Professor." Johnson's breath was uneven, his hand worked furiously, Cindy must have sensed that he was close. He reluctantly followed directions and stopped stroking, hoping, based on the intense look on her face, that he might get a little more in return.

"Good boy." She whispered, taking another step toward him. She reached up and untied the scarf that held her hair back. The wispy material slipped out of her hair and left it flowing down her neck. Johnson couldn't breath.

She playfully floated the scarf across his hard cock.

"No cheating now. Put your hands behind your back."

He did it instantly--slipping his hands between his back and the couch.

She brought her knee up on the couch beside his leg and lifted her arms up, wrapping them around his shoulders. Her other knee rested on the opposite side of him, and there she was, straddling his lap--her tiny mini-skirt dangling over top of the sheer fabric that covered his cock. Her spandex covered breasts looked so tantalizing this close to his mouth.

"God, you like sluts, huh?" She said in husky whisper as her tense body writhed over top of him. He felt the sheer top tickle his nose as it moiréd against his vision of her perky mounds. Dangling just above them was her necklace, the word "skank" jingling into his consciousness and further feeding his filthy mind. Her fruity fragrance wafted into his nose, and he sat there stone still, fearful of making a wrong move. 

"Did you like to dress your students up like whores, Professor?" she whispered into his ear.

"Jesus," he whispered, breathless.

"Tell me what you want, Mister Johnson."

He yearned to feel her soft skin, and took in the smell of the lotion that permeated the fabric around her nipply tits. 

"Please," he expelled; drool escaped from the corner of his mouth, depositing itself onto her netted top. "Please." He felt like a desperate animal. 

Cindy edged forward--spreading her thighs around his body and rubbing her breasts against his nose. She slowly bent her knees further and lowered her petite frame onto his stiff cock, squeezing the impossibly thin silk between her pussy lips and his steel hard on. As her body dropped, she rested her head on his shoulder. He felt her warm breath tickle his ear.

"Please what?" she whispered.

Her pussy felt super heated against his cock. Only the scarf kept them apart as she ground against him. Her silky lips opened around the base of his shaft, depositing her juice onto him as it seeped through the thin material.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

She wanted him to beg. 

"No." He wouldn't.

"Okay, well if you don't want me. . . ." Abruptly, Cindy lifted her body off of him.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he said rapidly, instinctively. He wanted her pussy back. He wanted this fucking scarf out of the way. He fought every instinct he had not to free his arms, wrap them around her torso and impale her onto his cock.

"What is it, doggy?" She wanted it too. He could tell she did.

He could see her suck in her breath, closing her mouth. Her strained expression betrayed a conscious effort to move away from him, as if she was defying her instincts and clinging defiantly to some pre-determined plan. She sat on the arm of the couch, swinging her legs sideways so that she faced him. Her miniskirt rode up on her thighs even farther, and he felt the frigid air against the juiced scarf--now pasted onto his enslaved cock.

"You're so pathetic, Professor!" Her degrading words were hyper-charged with sex. Johnson breathed out with self-disgust knowing that the teenager was getting off on treating him this way. "I think you want to fuck, but you're scared of me aren't you?" she teased. The tight straps of her shoes practically imprisoned her calves, as she finally spread her legs for him. With his chin close enough to touch her knee, her cunt was revealed to him for the first time. It was shaved clean. The scent of her juicy slit wafted into his nose. He remembered it from last night, only this time it was stronger--an acrid, girl-musk that seemed to have a hard line directly to his cock. 

He didn't know how much more of this he could take. Thoughts of rape, of unspeakable desperation, of splaying her legs, and impaling her like a piece of slut-meat flooded his filthy mind. He wanted her on his terms.




Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 02



"Go on, tell me." Her hands peeled back her miniskirt so that it rested above her hips, her bald cunt lips and supple inner thighs only a forearm's length away from Johnson's mouth.

"Please," he said, not having the words. Her strong scent made him salivate.

She reached her arm up and tilted her head back as she ran her fingers through her silky hair--pulling it back off her forehead. God, she was built to get fucked.

"Beg me, and maybe you'll get it." Finally, she snaked her hand down across her flat navel and started fingering herself.

"I want to fuck you." If this is what it was going to take, he couldn't restrain himself anymore.

"Be specific, Professor." Her eyes looked up from her pussy, staring into his. She stuffed a finger into herself, and stretched open her lips in front of him.

"I. . . ." He didn't know what she wanted. He didn't care anymore. "I want to fuck my cock into you, you fucking slut!"

She bit her bottom lip in a sigh of obvious pleasure, and closed her up-cast eyes as she pulled her finger back out of her tight cunt. It was slick with her pussy juice. She got off on control--it was the only explanation for all of this he could think of, but there was something else in her eyes. He didn't understand it.

"Hmm. I don't know. I'm not sure a pathetic Slick Prick like you deserves a cute slut like me." She held her wet finger in front of his mouth. "Open up. Show me how much you like me."

He willingly opened his mouth, and Cindy slid her shiny finger down his tongue. Johnson tasted the salty juice, freshly extracted from her ripe twat. He felt like a simple minded, salivating dog as his mouth closed around her sticky finger. When she finally slipped it out of his mouth, Johnson leaned sideways without thinking--following her finger with his tongue, wanting to taste her juice directly from the source.

"No. Nah, uh. You little hungry doggy!" She grabbed the back of his hair and pulled him back upright. Her other hand reached down and grabbed his balls over the thin scarf that clung to his cock. "Bad boy! You don't do that."

Cindy's grip on his balls was just hard enough that he didn't dare move. She pulled his hair back hard--hovering her face over his. "You want to get spanked again?" Her lips closed and her mouth worked behind them; she let a glob of her spit drop out onto the tip of his nose. It ran down onto his cheek as she released his hair.

His hands were still stuffed behind him. He felt completely worthless--a slut's slave. Finally, she released his balls and sat back on the arm of the couch, leaving his shaft once again exposed as the scarf bunched around his sack. 

"Now, are you going to be good?"

Johnson was insane with need. He wanted to touch himself.

"Can I touch my cock?" He couldn't believe he was asking permission.

"I don' t know," she teased.

"Fuck! Please. Jesus. Can I just touch my cock, Cindy?"

"Well, only if you want to a be a pathetic cock-jerker like you were last night. You might get some fresh pussy if you can be a good boy, though."

He exhaled violently. "Fuck!" He was a slave to the moment. He felt her wet spit slithering down his cheek. He kept his hands where they were.

"Do you want to taste some more, Professor?"

"Yes," was all he could muster.

"Then tell me what you want. Tell me what you'd like to do to me right now. Don't be bashful." Her finger had returned to her pussy, stuffed between the moist folds, gathering more sex juice for her "slick prick" to eat. He helplessly watched her finger disappear.

"I want. . . ." His mind was alive with overlapping images of brutal, hair-pulling, cock-stuffing revenge. He could hold back no more. 

"I want to stuff my cock into you. I want to spank you and teach you a fucking lesson. I want to pull your hair and rape your tiny ass hole. I want to skull fuck you and pump my cum down your little throat. Specific enough for you, you fucking bitch!" 

"Oh, gosh." Her finger slowly slipped in and out of her wet cunt as she fucked herself. Her head dropped backwards as she exhaled. He could see her curly hair tickling against her upper back. She was so hot--obviously struggling to maintain control. He didn't know if she was turned on by what he was saying or simply because she was making him say it.

"Hmmm," she said, seeming to will her mind back to the task at hand as her blue eyes once again met his. "Pretty big talk, little doggy. She removed her shiny finger again and held it in front of his spittled face. He opened his mouth with uneven breaths. Once again, Cindy rubbed her wet finger all over his lips and across the bumpy surface of his tongue. His slurping and suckling had a humiliating desperation about it as Cindy literally fed her bitch-juice to Johnson.

"Beg me."

"Pwleesz. . ." Cindy's finger probed his mouth.

"Please what, Professor? Do you want to fuck a slut?" she said in her best innocent little girl voice. She slid her other hand across her navel and teasingly lifted up her green sheer top. Grabbing the stretchy tube top material, she popped it upward, finally revealing her bare breast. Her small nipple was erect and pointed straight at him. 

"Tell me," Her finger slipped from his mouth to retrieve more pussy juice from the sopping honey-pot between her legs.

"I want to. . . I want to fuck a slut." Johnson couldn't believe he was saying these things to her, but at this point, he didn't care anymore.

"Good boy," she praised him like a puppy. "Beg me, Slick Prick." She stuffed another finger full of her juice into his mouth. The thick, salty liquid washed into his mouth and slid down his throat. His attention had wandered to her perfect, exposed tit jutting out from under the strip of stretchy material that once covered it. Her blonde hair danced across her shoulder; her tongue absent-mindedly rubbed her glossy lips, once again driving him mad with her own wicked arousal. 

"I want to fuck. Please." God he wanted to take her. He wanted to grab her legs, force her onto her back, and fuck his unrelenting tormentor into complete submission. "God, please. . ." he whispered, out of his head with single-minded lust. "Please!" 

"Okay!" Cindy defiantly shook herself out of her own daze, and once again displayed her bubbly demeanor. Instead of jumping on top of him, she quickly covered her small breast back up and closed her legs. 

"Yay, the naughty Professor likes the sluts!" She looked at her prey brightly. "I knew it!" She was obviously very excited as she bounced in front of Johnson--a once charming and powerful man who had been reduced to begging, wearing a shirt that basically proclaimed him as Cindy's sex toy. "Come on, Mister Johnson, let's go open your present!" she giggled.

Johnson felt intoxicated. "Please, Cindy, stop this." He didn't seem to be in is own senses. Cindy's musky scent was still heavy in the air. Her sticky girl-juice coated the inside of his mouth and tongue, slithering down into his throat like the ultimate teenage date-rape drug. He couldn't help but think of her as a young, teasing bitch in heat. He could see the effort it took for her to remain focused on her task--whatever that ultimately was. Her taste in his mouth somehow made him feel all the more like her property. 

"Please, stop, Cindy."

- - - -

"Here you go, Professor!" Cindy flung the door of the crate in the garage wide open. He could hear her giggling distantly at him as he simply stared, open mouthed, at the contents of the box.

To be continued. . .



Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 03



© 2004 by MLyons

Author's Note: The following story and the characters within it are purely a product of my imagination, and they are meant to be enjoyed only as a fantasy. Any similarity to real people or events is unintentional. 

Reproduction of this story in any form without express written permission from the author is prohibited.

Synopsis of Chapter 2: Johnson received a large wooden crate, and watched the videotape that Cindy gave him as homework. It was the last tape he'd made of Sarah Jennings, 10 years previous. The purpose of him having to watch the tape was unclear to Johnson. Cindy finally arrived, and more turn-the-tables humiliation was in the cards for the Professor, along with a long bout of cock-teasing dress up games where Cindy's method to her madness started to take shape. Finally, desperate to fuck after having been ruthlessly teased and denied all evening, Johnson was allowed to open his present.

Chapter 3

Stephen Johnson stared into the stout wooden crate in his garage. Inside, slouched onto a wooden shelf, was a lifeless female figure strapped into place in the box. It was a doll. It was one of the most life-like dolls he'd ever seen, but it was a doll nonetheless. It might have fooled him into thinking that it was meant for display as a mannequin in a shop if it wasn't for the slightly parted lips of its rubber mouth, the tip of its flat tongue peaking out from behind them, and the fancy paper card that was pinned to its tank top. The flowery handwriting was now all too familiar.

'Professor Johnson's Little Slut'

"Do you like her Professor?" Cindy asked happily. "Don't you want to fuck her?" She squinted her delicate eyes with the word for emphasis.

Johnson was speechless. His mind reeled with a combination of desperate lust and self-loathing. He was at once a lump of clay to be used, and a taut spring ready to snap.

Cindy approached the doll giddily. "See!" she gushed with excitement as the doll's malleable tit reacted authentically to Cindy's mauling fingers.

"Don't you like her boobies, Professor?" Cindy couldn't contain her excitement. "How about this mouth," her finger pushed down on the doll's bottom lip revealing its waiting silicone tongue. "Do you like her tongue, Professor? Don't you want her to lick your dick for you?" Cindy's face was glowing with a wide-eyed energy. It strangely softened the Professor's heart, even as his humiliation deepened.

"I'll bet she'll suck your cock if you ask her." Cindy was saying as the Professor continued to stare at the doll. It was dressed sexily, with a printed white tube top, a pair of skimpy shorts, and some understated high heels.

Cindy grabbed one of the doll's articulated hands and stuffed it into its shorts as if it was diddling its clit underneath. Given the way the doll moved, it seemed to boast of an anatomically correct skeleton underneath its soft silicone exterior. "See, she's already horny for you!"

Johnson just felt more debased. As he stared, stunned, at this meticulously crafted concoction of silicone and steel, it was now becoming clear to him that she was going to make him fuck the doll, and she was going to watch. He hated himself for it, but the deepest cut of all was that his over-teased cock was ready to take what it could get. The blonde teenager's tangy pussy juice still lingered in his mouth, sticking to the sides of his cheeks and seeping into the taste buds on his tongue. Images of the tiny capillaries in Cindy's smooth inner thighs, and the wispy hairs on her slender forearms still lingered in his mind. He wanted to ravage her--to pick her up, throw her on the floor and pork her teasing cunt in a way that befitted her whorish outfit. He worried that before too long, even her threats of prison might not be enough to stop him.

"Well?" Cindy had bounced her way over to Johnson. Her necklace, plainly displaying the word "Skank" in gold letters, jingled around her neck. She looked up at him. "Don't you like her?" Her eager blue eyes captured his, begging not to be disappointed.

Johnson finally mustered a little self-awareness. He closed his gaping mouth, and looked back at the grinning young teenager--stunned. 

"Cindy, I. . ." he didn't know what to say.

"Aww, poor Professor," Cindy pouted at him, looking down at his shameless erection. "You're so cute. You're like a horny little puppy." She shifted her legs underneath her. "Gosh Professor, I'm pretty wet too, huh?" Cindy reached down and placed her hand in front of her mini-skirt. She looked into his eyes and with a deliberate motion, pushed inward, stretching the material up and between her luscious thighs, rubbing it against her bare pussy underneath. She shifted her hand and spread her legs slightly, and although Johnson couldn't see it, he could imagine her wet lips spreading and stretching as she used the front of her skirt to wipe them off.

"Geez," she sighed with obvious, conflicted pleasure as her eyes fluttered closed. Her head floated back on her shoulders as her hand worked a few passes over her hidden slit. "What the heck?" she whispered almost inaudibly, betraying a kind of surprise and frustration with herself--as if she'd forgotten he was there. Her eyes slowly opened once again and focused on Johnson, whose gaze was locked on the hypnotically expressive girl.

She bit her bottom lip in a mischievous grin, seeming to know what Johnson wanted before he did. "Here you go, little puppy." Her hand released the tension on the material and she knelt by the waist, allowing her ass to stretch her miniskirt. His eyes fixated on her butt and lingered downward along the bare small of her back to her sheer blouse, and her thin black tube top underneath. His gaze focused on her glistening fingers as she lowered her hand only inches from the floor of Johnson's garage.

"Come on little puppy. Come on."

It was humiliating how desperate he was to taste her again. He dropped his bare knees to the concrete floor. He wished he had been able to see the crack of the freshman's ass as her cheeks strained against her miniskirt. His cock screamed for her dripping twat.

"Come on, you horny little puppy. All the way down." The back of Cindy's hand rested against the garage floor, her juice slicked fingers wiggling at him. Johnson dropped to his hands and passed her flushed face as he abjected himself in front of her. He seethed with hateful helplessness. "Go on," she whispered. He longed to feel her nose poking against the scratchy, shaved skin of his ball sack as he splayed the slut on her back at his kitchen table and gag-fucked her. The unmerciful images of retaliatory grudge fucking would not give his filthy mind any peace. The dangling gold letters of her necklace glittered at him.

Finally, Johnson enveloped her sticky finger with his mouth, once again tasting her fresh juice. Cindy tittered above him. She removed her finger from his mouth and quickly stood back upright, positioning her strappy slut-heel only inches from his face. 

"While you're down there, Professor. . ." the smooth skin of her foot was buckled tightly into place. He could see the thin straps crisscrossing her calves and tied off just below the knee as his eyes continued upward.

Peeking out from the outline of her miniskirt, partially obscured in shadow, was Cindy's bald twat. He felt sickeningly subservient to it, his face now lingering just above his student's foot. Her slit glistened from the light that the skirt allowed through to illuminate it. With a defiant will, he broke off his gaze at her pouty cunt and looked to her face. The tiny blonde seemed to tower above him. He could smell her aroma radiating from under her damp skirt, and the lingering taste of her juice on his tongue made his body shudder. He was frantic with the desire to teach the cock-teasing princess her proper place.

"Why don't you show me your place, little doggy." She wiggled her foot under his lips. Cindy's hair dangled in front of her shoulder and beside her cheek as she stared down into his eyes, breathing shakily through her mouth. Johnson could detect a shuddering in her thighs, an unsteadiness that betrayed her raw sexual energy.

Johnson's mixture of humiliation and hunger for this sweet slut above him was confusing and overpowering. He wanted to taste her skin, even if he was meant to lick her slut-heels to do it. He buckled his elbows and brushed his tongue along her smooth foot.

"Good, boy." Cindy whispered above him. "Unbuckle them with your teeth."

Johnson tasted her clean skin on his tongue, and his cock was as hard as ever. He longed to use her, to get his brutal satisfaction, even as he slid his tongue along the leather encasing her foot. He ran his teeth across the buckle of her shoe and pulled the strap loose. The buckle released.

"Good, now use your teeth and untie my legs, you dirty foot licker." Her oppressive calves sprouted upward above him, and he felt as small as a mouse underneath her. His tongue slid upward along the straps and skin below her knees. 

His mind imagined that he was licking her face from chin to eyebrow, slopping his saliva over her pretty features so that it dripped down her cheeks. He imagined pinning her thin arms down as his dick slipped in and out of her abused slut-hole, not allowing her to wipe the spit off her face.

He savored the taste of her salty flesh as he desperately yearned for both sexual release, and freedom from her humiliating tyranny.

"Professor, don't you want to fuck?" Cindy's playful voice floated above him.

He wanted to ignore her. He knew what she wanted, and he didn't want to give it to her. His teeth grasped the tiny strap just below her knee, tied into a tight bow. He pulled and it released, and at once the straps imprisoning her calf were loosened, the pattern of them still etched into her tight flesh.

"Help me out of it, Professor," ordered Cindy. "And you haven't answered me yet. Don't you want to fuck her?"

Johnson raised his hands and pulled down on the straps as Cindy raised her foot out of the complicated shoe. Once again he caught a taunting glimpse of her petulant cunt lips above him.

"Don't you think she's pretty? Come on, suck on my toes and beg me, Professor." She held her red polished toes only inches from his mouth.

Johnson could no longer deny his needs. "Please." he said finally, as his girl-hungry lips enclosed Cindy's middle toe.

"Please, what?"

"Please, let me fuck her." Johnson couldn't believe he was saying it. His tongue slipped over her nail polished toes, sliding between them, as he savored the sweaty taste. The disgusting mental image he had of himself at this moment was mortifying.

"You mean your dolly, Professor?" Cindy giggled as she wriggled her toes inside Johnson's drooling mouth. "Come on, beg me for it, little Slick Prick." He could hear the girlish grin through her voice.

"Please, let me fuck my dolly." He hated the words. The images of a desperate man, forced to masturbate himself inside a horrendously expensive sex doll stabbed at his brain.

"Yay!" Cindy praised as if she'd just successfully potty trained him. She guided his head down with her toes so that he was sucking them as her heel rested on the concrete floor. "I'm not sure I should let you, you filthy horn-dog!" She yanked her foot from his mouth and quickly stepped on the side of his head, bringing his face in direct contact with the cement below. Her saliva-slicked toes tickled against his ear. His knees ached; his ass thrust in the air behind him. His straining eyes once again traced along her perfect leg curves all the way up to the shadowy outline of her juicy pussy. Johnson was once again made to ask for what Cindy wanted. 

"C'mon. Beg."

"Please," he said, his lips squeezed together, trapped between Cindy's soft foot and the garage floor, "Let me fuck my dolly." 

How much more of this was he going to have to take?

"Well, I don't know, Professor." Her bare foot still resting on his face, Cindy bent down to release her other leg from the confines of its sexy heel. He could see her fingers manipulating the buckle as her sole pressed against his cheek. His status as her footrest was revolting to him, yet his cock raged, bobbing below his belly. He wanted to jack it off, or cut it off.

She finally released Johnson's head from underfoot and slipped her other leg out of the loosened shoe. "Take your dolly into the living room for me, and put her on the couch. I need to visit the little girl's room one more time." She looked down at his dusty face and shook her finger at him with a playful sternness. "Now, Professor, don't you dare cum without me. You just bring her over and sit next to her while you wait for me." She giggled, "Maybe you could whisper sweet nothings into her ear while you slip off her pretty clothes."

Suddenly her cute features brightened with a revelation. "Wait, I know what you'll like, Professor!" her gaze settled on the limp straps of the heeled shoe Johnson had removed with his teeth. "Since she is your little slut, why don't you dress her up just like one of your students? Make her wear these." She smiled as she kicked the lazy straps of the shoe into his face. "God that'll be hot! " she decided, bouncing above his sickeningly obedient form like a giddy child. She clapped her hands adorably, "You'll have the rest of her outfit in a jif. Don't go anywhere now!" She had an air of innocent fun that gave no indication of what she was capable of.

Cindy darted off into the bathroom, and Johnson, with his anguished hard-on, grudgingly began un-strapping his silicone sex-date from her box.

- - - -

The physical exertion of carrying the unwieldy sex doll into his living room had allowed Johnson to recover some of his lucidity. The combination of his own endorphins and Cindy's potent pheromones had kept him off balance and in a haze of arousal and debasement. He was still desperate to fuck. His nerves were raw, and he'd long since given up hope of knowing what Cindy ultimately wanted from him. Perhaps it was to be this kind of sexual torture of denial indefinitely--but why? Perhaps he did deserve this. Perhaps he deserved worse, but even if he did, the most mysterious question of them all plagued his mind: who was Cindy, really?

She was clearly not to be underestimated. She'd had this doll waiting in storage for months. There were careful plans behind her eyes, as well as anger--and sadness. It frightened him. She had him by the balls. One thing was certain. Underneath her beautifully cute, happy-go-lucky persona was a selfish, ruthless girl with what seemed to be a boundless sexual energy. What's more, her constantly wet pussy seemed to be fueled directly by his humiliation. Her sensual reactions to his most debasing moments were nerve racking, and yet so disgustingly exciting. His internal conflicts played into her hands, and somehow, instinctively, she knew it.

He had followed orders and undressed the sex doll, although he had omitted Cindy's suggestion of whispering sweet nothings. He hadn't had a chance to put Cindy's heels on the doll before she finally came out of the bathroom. His sex-saturated senses were once again assaulted with another of her archetypal fuck-fantasy images.

Cindy stood outside the door of the hall bathroom. She bit the nail of her little finger as she grinned at him in a completely congruent gesture of innocence befitting her new outfit. Her hair was now tied back into two tight pigtails. She wore a round collared, white button up shirt with hemmed short sleeves, once again showing off her delicate arms. Around her waist was a plaid catholic schoolgirl skirt that hung just above her knees. White lacy knee socks and shiny black shoes completed the prick-teasing image.

"Do you like schoolgirls too, Professor?" She twisted her torso back and forth over her hips.

Johnson sighed unsteadily, his overworked cock once again reacting to the girl in front of him, seemingly with a mind of its own.

"Not as much as sluts, huh?" she decided. "Well, you might change your mind. Come on, Slick Prick. Get up, and crawl over here."

Johnson obediently lifted himself off the couch. As he crawled up to her, she grabbed a handful of clothes from the bathroom and held them out for him to take. 

"Here professor, these are for your slut over there." She beamed at him. They were the clothes she just had on, complete with her "skank" necklace on top. 

"Oh, my pussy was kinda messy, so I wiped it off with my skirt." Her eyes and mouth squinted upward as if in an unfortunate warning, "It's still a little damp. Sorry."

Johnson sat on his knees in front of her and took the clothing. He resisted the urge in his gut to bury his nose in the outfit and treat his senses to the full force of the fruity body fragrances and lusty cunt-juice that seeped into the air.

"Come on, go dress her up, Professor." Cindy said giddily.

The doll had a body type that was somewhat curvier than Cindy's. It had slightly larger breasts and longer legs, in addition to being a brunette, complete with a runway of trimmed pussy hair. It was remarkably life-like to the touch, with high-grade silicone enveloping a steel skeleton that was for all intents and purposes, anatomically correct. The result was the perfect sex doll, but one that was exceptionally heavy and difficult to manipulate.

Cindy sat across from the spectacle and watched, laughing occasionally as Johnson struggled with his doll, trying to squeeze Cindy's tiny whore outfit around the limp figure. It took a great amount of effort cramming the doll's ample breasts into Cindy's small tube top and stretching her damp miniskirt around the doll's shapely legs. When he finally got to strapping up the heels, Cindy giggled at him again.

"Professor, you're not very good at this are you?"

Johnson sweated with his effort and seethed at her mockery. He responded with silence, but Cindy would not be ignored.

"Come on, Professor, talk to me!" she whined. "You've been awfully quiet tonight."

Johnson couldn't think of anything he wanted to say to her.

"So when you played with your students," Cindy continued un-phased, "did you dress them up yourself, or did you make them do it?"

Struggling with the straps of the heels, and purposefully not looking at her, Johnson reacted without thinking, "Played with them? Come on." He caught himself. He really couldn't deny it. "I'm really not comfortable talking about it, Cindy." His fatigued frustration was getting the better of him.

"Well, tell me anyway, Slick Prick." Cindy's spoiled tone of voice disregarded his comfort. He hated the name more each time she used it.

Johnson sighed, "I sometimes bought them clothes, and they put them on, Okay?" Something possessed him to fight back his humiliation and really take a good look at her. Her blue eyes and soft eyebrows betrayed a youthful energy that seemed the antithesis to her ruthless capacity for domination. It was simply bewildering.

"Well," she stared straight back at him, "that certainly explains a lot." Her eyes broke from his and looked at the loose and uneven straps lying around the doll's calves. Cindy leaned forward on the chair and placed her elbows on her knees, while resting her head in her hands. He could feel her eyes watching him as he continued to struggle with the doll. "Then what would you do?" she asked earnestly.

"What do you mean?" he semi-successfully tied off the first shoe.

"Well, you fucked them, right?" she giggled in her small palms as her pigtails bounced behind her.

Johnson sighed again as he looked downward, remembering why he didn't like looking at her bright eyes when she blurted out such things. "Yes."

"Wow." Her eyes drifted away for an instant. Johnson could only interpret it as girlish admiration. If nothing else, he thought, Cindy was full of surprises. She came back, "So, did they like it?"




Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 03



The exchange started to feel like an actual conversation. Johnson couldn't help but let his guard down a little and crack a smile of pride. "Oh, most of them liked it alright, I think. I made them cum."

"Really? How do you know?" Cindy was suddenly serious, genuinely interested in his answers, as if he was teaching her about sex.

"Well," Johnson had to suppress a laugh, but he was glad to at least be talking rather than simply being degraded. "I just knew, Cindy."

"Oh," she wondered again. "Wow. Geez. You know, I really like to. . . ." She stopped short abruptly. He had started to relax a bit. She seemed to want to really talk to him, but her eyes suddenly looked at him with intense confusion. It was eerie.

Her powerful will took back the reigns, seemingly vetoing the conversation she wanted to have with him. Her face turned more focused. "Well, you must be really good then, huh?"

"I. . . ." Johnson was sorry he'd opened his mouth.

Her hands framed her face as her smile reappeared.

"I guess." He shook his head not knowing what she wanted to hear, "I don't know."

"Well, did you at least kiss them first, Professor?"

"What?" He looked up at her as he tied the second bow around the doll's leg finishing off its acquiescent picture of whorishness.

Cindy bit her bottom lip and squinted her eyes mischievously. "Do you even know how to kiss a girl, Professor?"

Johnson's eyes closed.

"Answer me!" Cindy petulantly struck the arm of her chair with her hand.

"Yes."

"Yes what?" Cindy smiled.

"Yes, I know how to kiss girls." He played the subservient puppet for her.

"Prove it, Professor." Cindy leaned back in her chair and stretching her knee-socked legs in front of her. "Why don't you snuggle up to your filthy little whore there and give her a nice kiss. I don't guess that whores get kissed very often before they're porked raw by dirty old men like you." Cindy's confounding mixture of gutter language and sweet innocence continued to jar him. "Come on, I think she'd like it!"

Johnson reluctantly got up and sat next to the slouching sex-toy. He looked at Cindy pleadingly. "Please, don't."

"Don't what?" Her legs kicked playfully out in front of her. "Come on, Professor, at least give the girl a little kiss before you slut-fuck her!"

Johnson looked at the indecent "O" formed by the sex doll's lifeless, rubbery lips. 

"I can't," he looked back at her, "This is ridiculous, Cindy."

"Professor." Cindy was instantly annoyed. She reached into the pocket of her catholic skirt, and pulled out her tiny cell phone. "If you don't give her a kiss right now, I'm going to take you into the bathroom with me and show you how girls pee--unless you want to go to jail. Now come on, give the poor girl one little kiss, it isn't going to kill you!"

Johnson's heart seemed to stop. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. Looking into her unflinching eyes, he was actually afraid for the first time. She wouldn't--would she?

His decision was an easy one. He leaned his lips closer to the doll's vacant face, angling the toy's neck so that it faced him. His stomach lurched with self-loathing as he lightly touched his mouth to the unresponsive rubbery lips.

"You call that a kiss, Professor? Come on," she said impatiently as she stood up and stepped over to the couch. "Give her a real kiss." Cindy brought her knees up to the couch on the other side of the doll and looked at the horny man. Johnson could see her legs underneath her, as her tight ass bounced in response to the couch's springs. Hints of her white cotton panties peaked out from underneath her plaid skirt. He couldn't help his desire for her, but he was beginning to see Cindy differently. She wasn't just playing games. This was real.

"Just like this," she said as she lowered her face to the doll's. He watched as she rubbed her lips around the sex doll's mouth, deliberately coating the silicone opening with stringers of her saliva. She ran her glistening tongue along the inside of the "O" hole and licked suggestively at the rubber tongue inside. Finally enveloping the doll's mouth with her own, she stuffed her tongue down as far as she could go. Her blonde pigtails dangled playfully down to her neck as Cindy showed the Professor how to give his slut a proper kiss.

"See? Now you try!" she said condescendingly, smiling at him as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Johnson's stomach was tight with humiliated rage, and his cock was back to full blown erection despite it all.

He tried again, this time with Cindy's face smiling right next to the doll's as she watched him up close. He felt Cindy's wet saliva around the dolls mouth, and savored the taste of it, wishing he could sample it from the source, and then spit it back onto her face.

"Good boy," Cindy whispered into Johnson's ear. "Run your tongue in her mouth. Give her a nice long, sloppy kiss. I think she likes it!"

Johnson surrounded the doll's lips with his, and probed his tongue around the inside of its mouth, tasting what Cindy had left behind for him.

"Yay! I think you're really turning her on, Professor! Hey, you know what else I'll bet whores don't get too often?" she bubbled. "I'll bet she'd like it if you licked her pussy."

"Oh, Jesus Christ." Johnson couldn't help but blurt it out.

"What?" Cindy sat back on her knees on the couch in a gesture of innocence, her skirt riding up and revealing the top of her thighs above her knees. "The least you could do is give her pussy a little lick before you fucked her like a rag doll, don't you think?" She tilted her head at his lack of response, "Slick Prick?"

"Cindy, please stop calling me that." Johnson's anger was bubbling, ignoring his better judgement.

"What? Slick Prick?" the phrase tripped off her tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world. "But that's what you are!" she giggled. "It says it right there." Cindy lifted her self up on her knees, reached across the silicone tits spilling out of Cindy's black tube top, and poked Johnson in the chest, pointing out the words embroidered over his netted jersey: "Cindy's Slick Prick".

"Now, you just shushy, mister. Go ahead and get down between her legs and lick your little skanky whore out."

"Dammit," Johnson awkwardly moved down into position between the doll's lethargic legs. He pushed his body between her strapped up calves and could already smell Cindy's pungent, drying pussy juice on the mini-skirt he'd stretched over the doll's hips. The scent turned him on, and yet every thing about what he was doing was repulsive to him.

"Lift her leg up, so I can see." Cindy pulled up the doll's leg, bending it at the knee, causing its fake pussy lips to spread slightly from the strain, and the mini-skirt to stretch around the toy's upper thighs. Cindy sat on the couch next to it, looking down at Johnson, her legs dangling over the edge. Johnson stabilized the doll's leg by pushing up under its thigh, the strapped up heel dangling over his shoulder.

Johnson's face hovered directly in front of the opening. The tip of his nose almost touched the damp skirt. He felt filthy.

"Go on, silly," Cindy's delicate chin rested on top of the doll's knee, her big eyes staring down at him. "Whores need their pussies licked too, don't ya know."

Johnson couldn't believe he was doing this. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, planting it on the soft rubber pussy lips, and started licking along the opening. Pussy eating was never something he particularly enjoyed, much to the dismay of some of his past "girlfriends". That made what Cindy was forcing him to do all the more demeaning. Still, the scent of Cindy's cunt was all around him, and his cock was defiantly responding to it.

"Oh, nasty." Cindy stared down at him wide eyed, her breathing shallow. He was repulsed and captivated by her arousal. "Good, slut licker," she said with her special brand of angelic venom. "Get your tongue in there. Here let me help." Cindy stood up and manipulated the doll's legs around him, bending them upward and forcing both of them up so that the doll's heels dug into the front of the couch. Its whorish cunt lips were now spread wide for Johnson's dutiful tongue. Cindy returned to her seat next to the toy and wrapped her leg in front of the doll's, resting her shiny black shoe next to Johnson's face, while her other leg splayed similarly on the other side of her.

"You dirty fuck," she blurted as Johnson saw her lift up her school-girl skirt to reveal her panties with the words "Pretty Pretty Princess" embroidered across her slit. A clear wet spot soaked through the material just below the words. Johnson thought his strung out cock was about to pop off.

"God you're so pussy-whipped, Professor. Go ahead and rub your dick while you bury your tongue into your little slut." With that, Cindy pulled her panties aside revealing her slick cunt to him once again--her frilly, white knee socks hugging her calves, and her shiny Mary Jane's clinging for dear life at the edge of the couch. Her skirt was draped over her flat tummy and her fingers started to diddle her swollen clit as the Professor lapped at the dead, rubber lips. Despite his past disinterest in eating pussy, he'd have done anything right then for just a taste of Cindy's.

"God," Cindy breathily whispered, her legs spread beside Johnson's face, her eyes fixed on his working tongue. Her face was racked with conflict. She flinched toward him and then backed off again, as if trying to fight an almost uncontrollable urge. Finally, she lost the battle.

"Come here." Cindy, rubbing on her clit with frantic impatience, bent down and reached over with her other hand to grab a fistful of Johnson's hair.

Johnson struggled to get into position in front of her, with his bottle of lube swinging below his neck and Cindy impatiently yanking his head toward her slurping twat.

"Just stick out your tongue," there was a sense of urgency in her voice that he hadn't heard before. "Just put your head right there," her fingers pulled on his hair strongly, and she forced his head into position, his nose practically touching her wet slit. 

"Put it right there, stick out your fucking tongue, and don't move, you sad, filthy fuck!" Her breath rushed in and out of her mouth shakily, her fingers worked over her clit like she was a sex-starved animal, and her sleek legs seemed to vibrate and convulse out of her control in the periphery of Johnson's vision. Her perky chest heaved up and down under the thin material of her button-up and her eyes bore daggers into his with a sense of single-minded purpose that until now, she had only hinted at. Johnson was there to do as he was told, and for once, he did so willingly.

Cindy's sopping cunt dangled over the edge of the couch--Johnson's tongue reaching for it. He stroked his cock underneath him with as much single-minded purpose as Cindy had, and her body finally edged close enough to his tongue for him to taste her warm wetness directly. Her juice mingled with his saliva and seeped into his mouth, washing over his taste buds with her musky flavor. Her silky cunt danced around his outstretched tongue as her fingers worked feverishly above him.

Her breath was ragged, her whole body shivering.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait." Her shivery voice was accompanied by her fingers squeezing into his hair. She pulled his head upward, and looked at him with piercing eyes, as if she was urgently remembering something. 

"I swear to God, Slick Prick, if you fucking cum right now, I'll make you wear my dirty panties to school on Monday, then make you suck yourself off in the girls' room." Johnson immediately backed off his dick stroking. Her transformation was mind-blowing, but threat or bluff, he was not about to disappoint Cindy now.

"Oh. My God. . ." her pigtails bounced with a mind of their own. She threw her head back against the couch into a deep breath, and then sharply exhaled. Johnson wriggled his tongue, daring to delve deeper into the folds of her sticky twat as Cindy started convulsing above him. Her legs dropped off the couch and she squeezed his head like a vice between her thighs.

"Oh my fucking God!" she wailed.

Johnson could see nothing but her bare naval and the flitting fingers on her clit. His ears were squeezed between her fleshy thighs, and he heard the muffled sounds of Cindy's cries over top of him as his head was shaken by her convulsing legs. His nose and tongue were saturated with her juice, and her finger continued flicking across her engorged clit until finally, after several more violent spasms, she released him.

Johnson looked up to see Cindy's flushed face, an absolute picture of vulnerable, dazed pleasure. Her eyes locked on him as she tried to catch her breath.

"Wow. . ." she slumped back against the couch. Her eyes squinted upward in an amazing smile at no one in particular as she giggled through her heavy breaths--a look of giddy, beautiful euphoria. 

Johnson couldn't help but look at the youngster with fascination. Seeing her now made him think of Sarah Jennings. She would get so lost in her own feelings that she would forget where she was. It was an eerie moment that he found himself wanting to savor.

"No, no. Wait." Cindy snapped her head forward and looked down at Johnson with a mixture of intensity and contempt--perhaps even guilt. 

"No, get away." She raised one of her legs, planted the sole of her shiny black shoe onto Johnson's face, and pushed him away from her.

"I think your dolly wants you to fuck her, Professor," she finally said, still breathing heavily, but with a look of frustrated intensity. She pulled her panties back over her spent cunt and lowered her skirt once again. She got up and walked back to her chair opposite the couch and sat down, running her hands over her hair and checking on the status of her pigtails.

"Go on," she said plainly. "Fuck her."

Johnson lay splayed on the floor, his face glistening with Cindy's girl-juice. He felt used and uncertain. He didn't understand his feelings about what had just happened. He was desperate to fuck, and he was trapped. He looked over at the sex doll slumped on the couch. One of its legs still held its bent position upward. The other had fallen down, and the high heel rested limply on the floor. Johnson's mind reeled with need. Cindy's powerful display of uninhibited, selfish release had made him want her more than ever. He looked at her helplessly, greatly preferring her vulnerable features to the doll's.

"Don't leave her hanging, Professor." Cindy said teasingly. Her bubbly demeanor had started to return. "Go ahead and slick up your dick and pump that strung out whore."

Johnson's hyper-charged ache for an uninhibited, cunt-stretching grudge-fuck gave him no choice. He just wanted it over with. He popped open his lube bottle and lubed up his cock. His breathing was anxious, and his movements clumsy with blind need.

"Lay her on her back on the couch and stuff your dick inside so I can watch, Professor." He looked at her. She looked as if she was a proud breeder just about to watch her dog mate with its bitch. His desperation superceded his dignity--he knew now that he wanted this more than she did.

He positioned his body over top of the lifeless slut and stuffed his dick into her rubber cunt. It felt so disgusting in his mind, but was such an incredible relief for his cock. He couldn't help but give out a light moan. 

"Oh fuck." Dream like images of a vulnerable Cindy flooded his mind--submissiveness and dominance at once. Cunt stretching. Throat fucking. Hair yanking. Ass pumping. His cock squeezed and thrust into the slicked rubber hole. "Oh. . ."

"Yeah, Professor?" Cindy asked excitedly, obviously responding to his pleasure. "Does that whore's cunt feel good? Go ahead." She sat up on the edge of her chair, her pigtails flipping happily around the back of her ears. "You can fuck her harder if you want. She's just a stupid whore after all."

Johnson couldn't help himself. The soft, rubber cock-hole squeezed his member as he slurped in and out of the expensive love toy. His hips slapped roughly against the doll's ass cheeks as the whole couch began to shake. The "Skank" necklace around the limp doll's neck jingled with the deep thrusts of his rod. He imagined taking Cindy's pussy against her will, her young body thrashing wildly underneath his dominating frame as he pumped her exposed slit. His pace quickened that much more.

"Wow!" said Cindy, "Does it feel good, Professor? Do you like fucking your slut?"

"Uhhhh," he groaned both with defiance and unanswered need as he pumped his hard dick into the rubber skank below him. He sat up, and his hands grabbed her thighs, lifting them up and making her knees bend, spreading her fabricated pussy wide for his monster thrusts. Sweat dripped off his forehead onto the doll's tummy, he felt like a mindless animal. It was a desperate, horrible feeling. Still, he continued to fuck his artificial whore.

"Good boy, Professor. You know what else whores like?"

"No--please, just. . . I need to fucking cum. Just shut the fuck up, and let me cum," his pelvis slammed into the sweat-slicked silicone.

"Not yet, you horny-toad!" Cindy quipped. "Whores like it when you pump into their throats, don't they? Why don't you fuck her mouth, Professor."

"Jesus Christ!" He just needed it over with. He pulled out, and extracted some more lube for his cock. Per Cindy's instructions, he moved the doll so that it was sitting, legs spread flat on the floor in front of the couch, its back resting against it, and its open mouth and rubber tongue ready for Johnson's long overdue sperm. Cindy giggled at the struggle it took to get the toy in position, and at Johnson's increasing desperation to release his load.

Finally, the instant it was in position, Johnson stuffed his dick, balls deep into the doll's oral cavity. His hands clenched its hair as he violently fucked its perfectly compliant throat, using it as it was meant to be used. The tight orifice and his movement within it created a strong sucking action on his cock, and he knew that he could hold out no longer.

Cindy stepped up silently beside him as the silicone folds rubbed all the way against the base of his dick. His sweaty balls, sticky with lube, slapped against the fuck toy's subservient chin. He could feel the soft material of Cindy's schoolgirl skirt rub against his thigh, her perky titty sandwiching her thin shirt against his arm. He could smell her fragrant body so close to him as she leaned up on her tiptoes and slid his earlobe lightly between her teeth. Her breath was a hurricane inside his head. He stuffed his dick into the toy's willing throat as deep as it would go, his shaved crotch scratching against her nose. Just as her cock-milking fuck-hole began coaxing Johnson's sperm from his body, Cindy whispered four measured words against his ear. 

"You horny, filthy, fuck."

An animal moan escaped his lips, and Cindy's demeaning words coincided with the swell of a shame-ridden orgasm just crossing over into inevitability. An inexplicable tear of both desperate pleasure and utter humiliation swelled up in his eye. He could feel the tight nub of Cindy's little nipple rubbing against his arm under her shirt just as he thrust once more into the doll's face and started squirting his thick load inside of it.

"Oh, God. Jesus." Johnson's face contorted with both the sadness of his shame, and the joy of his release. A tear ran down his cheek as his voice cracked in crying moans with each thrilling squirt of his man-seed. His knees wanted to buckle, and the rubber whore below him extracted the thick sperm from his pulsating cock like a milking machine. While Cindy's teeth played with his ear, one of her soft hands trailed up his chest hair underneath his sweaty jersey and started pinching and twisting his nipple. The pain of it only served to further contribute to the chaotic conflict of feelings.




Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 03



"Tell me how that feels, little doggy," Cindy whispered just as the last of his semen was evacuated by the doll's slick, sperm-sucking throat.

He felt both satisfied and used, both pleasured and humiliated. 

"Bitch," Johnson hissed, almost crying--not sure if he was talking to Cindy or the doll, and not able to differentiate between them in that moment. His knees finally gave in, and both he and the doll collapsed onto the floor. His sperm was already oozing white dollops out of the fuck-toy's limp mouth, and dripping off her chin in front of him. Tears continued to swell in his eyes even as his rapidly deflating cock sent repeated signals of post-orgasmic bliss to his troubled brain. It was a complex cacophony of feelings he'd never had before, and he wept.

He covered his face with his hand in order to hide the feeble display from Cindy. He remembered the face of pure, fresh beauty and vulnerability that accompanied her orgasm. He remembered how remarkably similar Sarah had looked those many years ago, and an unexpected sense of tenderness that he hadn't felt in years overwhelmed him. He felt weak, and shameful. He finally realized that perhaps that's how Cindy wanted him to feel.

The question still remained. Who was she? He leaned back and rested his head on the carpet with a mental and physical exhaustion he'd never felt before. He saw the cute visage of an innocent catholic girl standing above him, her big blue eyes watching him with what Johnson could only attribute to child-like awe.

"Wow, I think you made her cum, Professor."

- - - -

Johnson moaned as his eyes fluttered open. He had been roused by some kind of jingling or clanking sound. He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping. It might have been minutes. It might have been an hour. All he did know was that his muscles were sore, and he was exhausted. At once he remembered where he was, wishing it had been a dream.

The sex doll's cum-leaking mouth was the first thing in his field of vision. Its body lay limp on the floor next to him. The watery sperm that still leaked from its mouth onto the carpet was an indication that he couldn't have been sleeping too long. He wanted to get away from it--to never see the fucking thing again, but Cindy was still here, and he was so tired. He would leave well enough alone.

"It's almost sleepy time, Professor," Cindy was saying, somewhere near the couch. "I think you should go potty."

"Cindy," he said with a strained voice as he lifted his head off the floor. "Can't you please just go home? I've learned my lesso--" He froze as he sat up and looked at the couch. It was covered with sheets that Cindy had raided from his linen closet. On top of them were a series of nylon straps that draped over the couch seat and terminated in ratcheted metal buckles. They looked like the straps used to pack furniture into moving vans. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Cindy had changed her clothes again. She now wore a printed cotton nighty with short, frilly sleeves. Her hair was made up in a single braid down the back of her neck. Although Cindy didn't have quite the effect she'd had on him before he'd orgasmed, he still found it hard taking his eyes off of her. He marveled at how different Cindy could make herself look, and her skill with clothing and makeup. She was working on spacing the straps along the large couch, which was now missing its back cushions.

"If you don't go now you're gonna be sorry." she warned without looking at him.

He wanted to lash out in helpless frustration, but instead, he quietly acquiesced and went to the bathroom.

"Okay, Professor, lay your dolly on the couch."

"What are you going to do, Cindy?"

"You and your dolly are going to sleep together, silly!" she giggled.

Johnson didn't have words anymore. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Come on," she patted the sofa cushion. "Get her on up here and I'll tuck you two love birds in."

He yearned for her to just leave him alone. Johnson grabbed the doll under its armpits, hoisting its heavy frame up and laying it down across the couch on its back, cum still drying on its mouth. He wanted to wipe it off, and grabbed a corner of the sheet covering the couch to do just that.

"No, no, no, she likes your cum, Professor! Honest!" Cindy slapped his hand away from the doll's mouth. "Now, slick up your cock."

He opened the flip top on the lube bottle around his neck and squirted some into his hand.

"A little more. I really think she likes you." Cindy grinned at him.

He applied lube until his cock was positively dripping with it. His hard on had started to return, although not near as urgent as it once was.

"Ok, now hop into bed with her, doggy."

"What. . . how. . ." He was afraid to ask.

"Well, get on top and slip your cock into the slut. Show her what a stud you are."

He looked into Cindy's eyes--pleading silently with her. She returned his gaze with a silent mixture of compassion and unwavering conviction. 

"I know. Come on," she said, almost apologetically. He crawled on top of the steel and rubber frame while Cindy helped guide his stiffened cock into the doll's pussy.

"Good boy."

"Cindy, please. Don't make me sleep like this." Johnson's neck strained, trying to hold his head above the doll's chin. He saw the thin residue of his seed pooling inside the "O" of its mouth.

"Shhhh, Professor." Cindy covered his lips with her fingers. "Time for sleepy." She grabbed one of the long straps that draped under the dolls' torso and wrapped it around Johnson and his whore. She buckled and ratcheted it tightly so that his waist was against hers. He felt the damp mini-skirt pressing against his belly, and the slick confines of the doll's pussy massaged his slowly rejuvinating cock. Cindy continued strapping the doll and Johnson together, chest to chest, shoulder to shoulder, and eventually using smaller straps, arm to arm and leg to leg. He craned his neck to avoid laying his cheek onto his own drying cum.

"Cindy," he stammered, trying to figure a way out of this debasing situation.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but it's the least you can do. Aw, you two are so cute together! I wouldn't fuck her all night, though, if I were you. Big day tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" he said incredulously. "Are you going to do fucking worse than this?" He was beside himself.

"Well," she paused, thinking the question over seriously. "I guess that depends on your point of view." After a strange moment of consideration, she leaned down in front of him, and kissed her soft lips to his forehead. "I'll see you in the morning." She looked like she wanted to say more, but didn't. She left him there in the dark.

"Cindy. Cindy!"

She ignored his cries, and before long he decided to quiet down lest she decide to make an effort to shut him up. Eventually, he was forced to lay his cheek against the doll's face, but most of his cum had become a dried crust on its skin. He tried to struggle against the straps, but the doll was impossibly heavy. All his struggles seemed to do was remind him that his dick was buried deep inside of it, and each time his hard on stirred, he felt more and more a slave.

Shortly before he finally fell asleep, he could swear he heard Cindy's sharp breaths and thin grunts escaping his bedroom. She was masturbating herself again, he was sure of it. His disobedient cock hardened against the soft walls of the doll's rubber pussy. He didn't think he could sink any lower when he heard her thin, breathy voice from the other room:

"God, that's a good doggy!"

To be continued. . . 



Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 04



© 2004 by MLyons

Author's Note: The following story and the characters within it are purely a product of my imagination, and they are meant to be enjoyed only as a fantasy. Any similarity to real people or events is unintentional. 

Reproduction of this story in any form without express written permission from the author is prohibited.

Synopsis of Chapter 3: Johnson's present from Cindy was revealed as a lifelike sex doll, complete with silicone skin and an anatomically correct skeleton. After further teasing, which included forcing him on his knees in his garage to lick her feet and loosen the straps of her heels with his teeth, she forced him to dress the doll in Cindy's slut outfit, kiss it, lick its pussy, and finally fuck it. Johnson was completely debased, and so desperate to fuck anything that the doll more than satisfied his needs, even while Cindy fucked with his mind and got off on it in the process. Afterwards, Johnson was made to lay on top of the heavy toy while Cindy strapped him completely to it with packing straps. Johnson finally drifted off to sleep in that position as he heard Cindy masturbating in his own bedroom down the hall.

My sincere apologies to those who have read the original versions of Chapters 1-3 (Prior to August 2004). They have changed a bit and are now finalized. The story is a shade darker now, and my apologies again if it is not your cup of tea. The synopses now included in each chapter (see above) are meant as a quick catch up for those who don't wish to re-read them. I beg your indulgence and thank you for your patience.

Chapter 4

"Time to wake up, Mister Sleepy-head."

Johnson's eyes opened as he groaned himself to consciousness. His cheek rested on the doll's face. He instinctively tried to get up but was quickly reminded that he couldn't move. The 150 pounds of rubber and steel he was strapped to was weighting him down like an anchor. As he regained his senses, he felt a tickling sensation on his balls. The blanket covering him was gone, and Cindy was running her fingers along his scrotum. Sometime during the night his cock had softened and slipped out of the doll, but morning wood had struck him. She had already applied more lube to his cock and was coaxing it back into the doll's pussy.

"You know, I had a slave once Professor." He saw her cross in front of him, still wearing her nighty. 

"Cindy," Johnson said weakly. His body was so sore.

"Yeah, it was about a year ago. He was cute. You wouldn't believe the kind of things he'd let me do. He really wanted me to go out with him," she giggled. "I figured it would be good practice for when I met you. 'Course, I didn't really make him do anything, he just really liked it."

Johnson could not free his stubborn hard on from the confines of the rubber pussy. Each time he tried, it simply rubbed against the slicked walls--making his cock that much harder. He watched as Cindy climbed up on the arm of the couch next to his head. 

"Cindy, please, let me go."

"I guess you really don't want to hear about him," she said bashfully. "But I'll tell you a secret." Cindy sat on the arm and spread her legs so that her ankles rested beside his prone head. Lifting her nighty up so that it bunched across her tummy, she edged her bare pussy toward his face and grabbed his hair. "You're a lot more fun than he was."

She pulled his head up and planted her pussy directly underneath it so that her bottom rested on the doll's forehead. He could tell she was already worked up. He saw a glimmer of juice just along her outer folds, and could smell the familiar mixture of her sex with the perfume of her laundered, cotton nighty.

"Lick me off, slave."

Johnson was in a daze. His body was sore, his cock was being subtly massaged, and Cindy's ripe pussy was waiting for his tongue. She released his hair and despite his unbelievable situation, he found himself licking hungrily at the tender lips of her vagina.

"Good boy, keep licking like a good little doggy." Cindy reached back behind her and grabbed the phone receiver off the end-table. "I found this in your office last night, Professor." She dangled a rolodex card in front of his eyes. "I'm not sure if he'll go for this, but I thought it might be fun. It's worth a try anyway, right?"

Johnson couldn't see the card before she yanked it out of his line of sight, and he had no idea what she was talking about. He moved his tongue up to her engorged clit--flicking it and tasting her young pussy. His cock was a rock, and he wanted her so badly. Her taste simply intoxicated him. He couldn't help it. Cindy, meanwhile, had been dialing a number on the phone.

"Cindy, who are you calling? What are you doing?"

"Shhh, lick slave," she whispered looking down at him. "This is so exciting!"

Johnson didn't know what else to do but follow her order.

"Hello," she said brightly, seemingly unphased by Johnson's dutiful tongue. "Is this Mister Ronald Tyrney?"

"Cindy!" Johnson desperately whispered. "What the fuck are you doing?"

She covered the phone. "Shhh--quiet, doggy!" she hissed. "Lick!"

"Yeah, Mister Tyrney, my name is Lisa, how are you? Yeah, I know it's kinda early on a Sunday. Sorry about that, but I was kinda horny and thought I'd give you a ring."

What the fuck was she doing? Was she insane? Tyrney was his boss--the man she threatened to call to alert him to Johnson's theft from Young Industries. Johnson's heart sank when he realized that Tyrney was just the type of sleaze ball who would fall victim to Cindy's charms.

Cindy held the phone away from her ear briefly as she adjusted her body in front of Johnson. He could hear the suspicious male voice on the other end. It was Tyrney alright. He couldn't believe this.

"No, no, Mister Tyrney. A colleague of yours gave me your number. It's kind of a surprise. No, he thought you might need a little pick me up, that's all. Well, I can't tell you that now can I? I don't want to get him into trouble." Cindy poked Johnson's nose as she looked at him, smiling.

"Oh, did I wake you up? Well, gosh I'm really sorry about that, but tell me this Mister Tyrney. Do you sleep naked?"

Johnson abruptly stopped working on Cindy's slit, waiting to see if Tyrney was going to take the bait. Cindy reached down and flicked his ear. Gazing at him with her best puppy dog eyes, she mouthed the word, "Please?" Then she pouted. Johnson got the message, and continued lapping at her as if he was preparing her for his cock.

"You do? Wow. Well, Ronald--can I call you Ronald? Yay! Well, Ronald, I've got blonde hair, and I'm nineteen years old." Cindy giggled adorably as she reacted to Tyrney's obvious acceptance of what she was offering him. It fucking figured.

"Yeah, I'm just out of high school. I just started college this year." 

Johnson nervously ran his tongue along her slit. His cock showed no sign of rest. It was lodged firmly into the doll's folds--slipping ever so slightly against them and driving him mad. 

"Well, I'm kinda small, but the boys all tell me I have a great little body. You know, the kind that guys like to toss around in bed? Oh you do? Well there's no problem there then, huh?" she giggled again. "You want to know what I'm wearing? Well, I'm still wearing my pretty night gown, but I don't have any panties on underneath. Nope! No, I don't like to wear them. You know what else, Ronald? I'm all shaved too. Yep--its totally smooth. Ha, ha. Well, no I'm not exactly touching myself, but my slave is down there licking my pussy for me."

Johnson could hear an almost inaudible breath escape Cindy's lips as she reacted to his tongue. He could feel her getting wetter as she closed her eyes and let her head list to the side. He felt his chin disappear into the sex-doll's mouth as he wriggled his tongue inside of her and tasted her fresh juice.

"Ooo," she shuddered slightly above him--reacting to his probing tongue. "Yeah my slave. Yep, she's all shaved too. Yeah, you like that, huh? Well, she's doing a pretty good job, but I think she needs a little more practice." Cindy winked playfully at Johnson. "What are you doing right now, Ronald? Oh yeah? Is it hard? Mmm, I'll bet that would feel good in my little pussy. Ooo, that sounds good. I'll bet you really know how to fuck a girl, don't you, Ronald?" Cindy had sexual instinct to spare. She was a master.

Johnson couldn't help but react to her himself. His cock slipped in tiny jerks--he tried to move his hips but he was so restricted that all he served to do was tease himself. He lapped at Cindy's luscious pussy lips, and then flicked her clit with his tongue.

"Would you like to suggest some pointers for my slave here? What should she do to me?" Cindy laughed girlishly. It drove Johnson insane. "No she can't really do that. She's not allowed. Besides, I've kinda got her tied up. All she can do is use her mouth on me. What should she do?" Cindy listened to a voice Johnson could not hear as she gazed down at him and laughed like giddy child.

"Okay, I'll tell her. Slave, Ronald says you should nibble on my thighs." Cindy edged down and closed her sleek legs around Johnson's face. He looked at her with a conflicted longing he didn't understand as she encouraged him with stern blue eyes. "Well, go ahead. Yeah, Ronald, she can be a little bitch sometimes. Sometimes I have to punish her. Well, I gave her a spanking yesterday. Yeah, it even hurt my hand. Yeah her poor little bottom was all red. Well she deserved it!" Her girlish laughter tortured him. Johnson craned his neck so that his mouth was touching the thigh next to her slit. He bared his teeth and slipped a fold of her tight skin between them--nibbling just as he had been told.

"Oh, Ronald that feels really good." Cindy's thighs shifted around him. He could see a drop of juice and saliva fall from her shaved slit into the doll's mouth. "God yes, she's teasing my thighs with her teeth. I'm so wet, Ronald. My pussy is just aching for a big cock. Is it? Oh goody! What else should my slave do? Well, yeah, she's been kinda naughty. Wow, Okay. Slave, Ronald says you should lick my ass." 

Cindy edged forward a bit more and leaned back against the end table. Her free hand rested behind her, holding up her weight as her thighs framed Johnson's face and the soft cheeks of her bottom molded around the doll's pliable features.

"Oh, this is going to feel so good, Ronald. I can't wait!" She edged her ass forward so that her tight cheeks wrapped around his face and nose. "Ronald wants you to lick it, Slave." Johnson could see Cindy's juice leaking out of her sweet pussy and dripping toward her puckered ass. All he had to do was stick out his tongue. The realization that his boss--quite possibly one of the most foul, greedy and ruthless men he'd ever met next to Karl Young himself--was literally directing Johnson's very debasement washed over him like grim death.

"Oh my God, Ronald! Yeah, her tongue is so wet. She's lapping up the pussy juice that leaked down there. Oh, she's so pretty, Ronald." Cindy smiled down at Johnson, grinding her ass cheeks into his lips.

"Oh, are you close? My slave and I are getting you all hot and bothered, huh? Oh wow, really? You're making me blush Ronald! Okay. Slave, Ronald says you should flick my clit with your tongue until I cum. He says if you don't do a good job, I should. . . What? Wow, Ronald that's really nasty. I like the way you think." Cindy once again shifted her weight forward, bringing her jutting clit within reach of Johnson's tongue.

"Are you touching your cock, Ronald? Ooo, I'll bet it's really big, huh? Oh, yeah, if you fucked a little girl like me with it you might just split me open. I'm not sure if I could handle you." Cindy's breath quickened. Johnson nervously lapped at her wet clit, both excited and disgusted with himself as his hard cock rubbed in the tiniest of strokes inside the doll's pussy. Her body started to spasm erratically. "Yeah, is that what you want to do? Ooo, you're naughty Ronald." She began reacting in earnest to Johnson's laboring tongue.

"Oh, God, Ronald, you're making me all horny. Yeah, my slave is licking at my clit like a good little girl. Yeah, I'm kind of bad aren't I?" she breathed. "You want to teach me a lesson? Oh my God." Cindy looked down at Johnson with intensity, and if he didn't know any better, affection in her eyes. He knew he was making her feel good. Her spasms and her short intakes of air indicated that she was nearing her peak. "Oh my God Ronald, you're so nasty. Do you want to fuck my throat before you cum? Yeah? Do you want to cum in my face? Are you man enough to use me like a little slut?"

Johnson's mouth ached. His neck was sore and exhausted. He tongued Cindy's hard clit--finding himself aching to see her cum once more, but at the same time never wanting to see the sadistic little bitch again. Her words to Tyrney had once again filled his mind with filthy images that he could not erase, but he was unable to satisfy his cock within his confinement.

"Oh, good, Ronald. Yes, all over my face. Squirt your hot cum all over my pretty face. Show me what a man you are. Oh yeah? You want to show me my place? Oh, I'm so bad. You want to teach me a lesson? Yeah, that's right. Grab my hair, Ronald. Force my face where you want it so that you can soil me properly. Are you? Oh, it's dripping off my cheek, Ronald. It's getting into my eyes. Yeah, you're squirting it all over my mouth. Mmmmm. It's so hot and sticky Ronald. Wow you cum a lot. Oh my God. You really know how to use little girls like me, don't you? Oh, it makes me want to cum too." Cindy locked her eyes onto Johnson's, daring him to look away. Her face was racked with feeling, her wet eyes sparkled in the light. He let his lips wrap around her clit as his tongue snaked between them, flicking it hard and fast.

"You're going to make me cum, Ronald!" she told Johnson with a beautiful, pleading voice. "Oh, God. Ohhh." Cindy slurred her words. "Holy cow!" Her eyes rolled back into her head and she almost dropped the phone--catching it between her forearm and her breast. Her body quaked silently with another of her intense orgasms. Johnson's cock was desperate. He felt an inexplicable, giddy excitement as he made the teenager cum. Pussy juice seemed to gush out of her as her body quivered above him. His chin was covered with her aromatic sex. Her beautiful orgasm took his breath away and made him lose sight of his pain and worries, even if only for an instant.

"Ohh, oh. Oh my gosh, doggy," she whispered as she affectionately squeezed his head between her soft thighs. Her arms fumbled to get the phone back up to her ear. "Oh, yes. Oh my God. That was good, huh Ronald?" Cindy grabbed Johnson's hair again, and lifted his head up to face her. "Really? Well, okay." Cindy lifted her crotch up with her legs and started smearing her pussy all over Johnson's face--covering his nose, cheeks and lips with the remainder of her juice. "Yeah, I did. She's so pretty. Oh, you're such a perverted stud. I wish you could see her. Well, I'm glad you had a good time, Ronald. I sure did. Yeah, no problem. Don't thank me, thank your co-worker friend. Oops, I can't tell you that, remember?" She giggled again. 

"Okay, Ronald. Maybe I'll talk to you later. Okay. Bye bye, sweety."

"Wow, that was fun! Your phone number is unlisted, right Professor?" Cindy tittered at Johnson as she reached down and mussed up his hair, his chin still planted on her vulnerable twat.

Johnson was awestruck at what she had just done, and strangely both humiliated and excited by the part he had played in it.

"You wanna cum? Doggy wanna cum?" she said playfully.

"Yes. Yes, please." His exhausted mouth drooled involuntarily onto her sticky pussy.

"Well, I'll tell you what, Professor." Cindy reached back and put the phone down. "You did really good on my pussy," she threw her head the side and ogled the words. "I'm even still shaking a little. This'll be your only chance for a while. Are you sure you want it?"

"Yes. Fuck you! Yes!" He felt like nothing more than a depraved human accessory to the toy he was attached to.

"Well, okay then. I'll only give you two minutes though. If you can't cum in two minutes--"

"Untie me, Cindy. Get me off this fucking doll." Two minutes was a lifetime. He could cum in seconds if she just unstrapped him. 

"No, no Professor, just like that. You're already inside her. All you have to do is fuck her."

He moved against the doll--the tight packing straps were unrelenting. The doll might as well have been a part of him. His biggest movements only exacerbated his desperate need without bringing him any closer to climax. His mind was flooding with the images Cindy had described to his boss only moments ago.

"I can't fucking move, Cindy!" He felt his sweaty skin against the doll's. His hard cock was hopelessly buried into it, his shaved balls hanging in front of the doll's artificial ass-hole.

Cindy glanced at the clock on the wall. "Your down to a one minute-fourty, Professor."

He moved against the doll, he squeezed his cock into it--puckering his ass and forcing even more blood into his engorged member. His arms and legs thrashed--jerking the dolls appendages with them.

"Fuck, Cindy!" 

"Here, maybe I can help." Cindy reached over Johnson's head and grabbed something off his back. Other than his lube bottle, he didn't realize anything else was there.

"See this, Professor?" A clear acrylic shape emerged in front of the old man's anguished face. It was a butt-plug. It was a small one, not much wider than a finger, but with enough of a tapered bulge to fulfill its purpose. She must have put it there before she woke him up with her cursed ball tickling. Cindy spread her legs again, leaning back so that her puckered ass was in clear view.

"You want to see this go in here?" Cindy teased the tip of the clear plastic on her butt cheek adjacent to her tight opening. "Would that help you cum, doggy?"

Johnson's chin rested on the doll's lips. His neck was terribly strained, but he couldn't take his eyes away from Cindy's anal offering. He jerked his body against the toy, his aching cock slipping in tiny movements in its silicone envelope.

"Here, lube it up for me." She pointed the tip of the plug toward Johnson's drooling mouth. He parted his lips and she slid it inside. "Good little doggy. Are you going to cum for me?"

"Mmm," was all he could manage.

She removed the toy from his mouth, stringers of his saliva followed it back to her anus. 

"Mmm, look at that." Cindy's flesh refracted heavily through the wet acrylic toy. She pressed the small tip against the threshold of her ass. Johnson's saliva dripped off of it and down the ridge of her cheeks onto the doll's face.

"You wish this was your cock?"

Johnson thrashed--150 pounds of sweat slicked ballast working against him. He could practically feel Cindy's tight ass ring reacting to the touch of the smooth acrylic nub. His work finally started to result in a meaningful rhythm. If he could just keep moving his cock just that way, he might be able to let go. How was she able to keep doing this to him?

"Oop, thirty seconds, dirty doggy." Her anus stretched around the tip, allowing the toy's slow entry into her. 

"Ooooh, my gosh," she sighed.

Johnson could do nothing but let out a loud cry of anguish and frustration. He was so close, so close.

"Uh oh." Suddenly, Cindy removed the tip of the butt plug from her ass. She swung her leg around his head and stood next to him, letting her nighty cascade over her legs again.

"Twenty seconds, Professor. Are you close?"

Johnson's exhausted body thrashed against the doll--his cock dodging between the precipice of orgasm and the frustration of denial. The couch shook underneath him.




Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 04



Cindy grabbed the lube bottle that rested on top of Johnson's back and yanked the chain against his neck. She was pouring lube on the toy.

"What a bad little doggy. Ten seconds before your punishment."

Suddenly Johnson realized what she was going to do. He felt the tip of the toy poking lightly against the very opening of his ass as he wrestled his worn body against the sex doll.

"No wait! Wait!" He wanted to pretend. He wanted to convince her he had cum. But he hadn't, and nothing less would satisfy him. He continued thrusting uselessly. An uncooperative orgasm, willed into existence by unmitigated lust was boiling in his thighs--his aching cock creating just enough friction against the doll to bring him to the very edge. And then--

"Time's up, Professor!" Cindy said cheerfully, as she applied pressure to the lubed toy and deliberately eased it slowly through his puckered opening.

"No. No! Ahhhh, Fuck!" he screamed--a dehumanizing mixture of pain and exhausted pleasure. He could feel his cock pumping his cum into the artificial slut below him. He felt pain in his ass as his anus stretched around the tapered bulge until it finally clamped down on the base--unleashing another freshly squeezed flood of sperm from his over-teased cock. Johnson howled into the doll's face. Cindy's feathery fingers teased the sensitive balls hanging below his recently plugged hole. He felt utterly emasculated.

Pain and pleasure at once overwhelmed him as Cindy simply stepped back and watched his thrashing body--capturing his blurry gaze with a kind of wide-eyed innocence. His still pulsating cock caused involuntary contraction of his anus, which squeezed painfully around the toy's stubborn cylinder, sucking it further into him and poking his insides. His body spasmed with the slowly subsiding progression of this insidious cycle.

When he was finally able to relax enough that the plug in his ass didn't hurt quite so much, he saw Cindy kneel beside his body and felt her head rest against his back. He was so sore, so tired, so humiliated.

"You could've been so cool, Professor," she said earnestly. "Wow. I just. . . I just don't understand it."

Johnson moaned, not having any words, and not knowing what she meant. Even so, he couldn't help but find a strange comfort in her gesture.

She remained only a second before she silently left him there and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. As he heard her turn on the shower, he tried to rest as best he could, given his predicament. His ass was more relaxed now, but the idea of it being plugged revolted him--especially with the knowledge that she had pushed his orgasm over the edge with it.

He didn't have the presence of mind or the energy to hope anymore. He waited. When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she wore a pair of shorts and a playful yellow tank top that showed off her bare navel. Her wavy curls dangled freely across her back.

"Here," she said simply as she started unstrapping his arms. 

Neither of them said anything else for the next few minutes as Cindy finally released him from his wretched sleep partner. 

"I've got to go out for a while, Professor," she finally said. He reached back and wanted to remove the fucking plug from his ass, but Cindy slapped his hand away.

"No, no. Bad doggy! That stays there all day." She paused as she looked at him, her features softening. "In fact. Here." She stepped over to reach into one of her grocery bags. She pulled out another, larger butt plug, and handed it to him. "When you've gotten used to that one, I'd put this one in if I were you." She studied his face with intense and willful eyes--a frightening, hungry look that spoke of animal anticipation. He realized his face was still crusted with the drying remnants of the sex juice she'd smeared all over him--as if marking him as her property. He could swear he saw the shiver course through her small body as she started nodding her head condescendingly. "You'll want to be all ready for me, right doggy?"

- - - -

He didn't know what else to do. He was free, but he wasn't. Cindy was coming back, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. He was genuinely frightened of her. He sat on the edge of the chair in the living room across from the cursed doll, preparing his mind. He opened his thighs and laid his feet wide apart on the floor. He leaned forward and slowly eased the slick butt plug out of his ass. He looked at its replacement. It was larger. To him it seemed very large. His stomach was knotted. His lungs couldn't hold enough air; he thought if he didn't calm down, he might pass out. 

His hands shook as he liberally applied lube from his bottle onto the new plug. He lowered it into position and felt the cold tip against his vulnerable anus. Closing his eyes with shameful surrender, he began to carefully push it in. It was big. It stretched him. He had to go very slowly, but finally, the bulge painfully popped inside him and his anus clamped down and sucked the fucking thing in.

"Ahhhh. Fuck!" His teeth clenched in sharp antithesis to his efforts of relaxation.

Unbelievably, his cock was hardening throughout the process. Cindy's hold over him dominated every thought. It was amplified by each sensation. He wanted to jack his cock off right there so that he could defy her--to demonstrate the limits of her control--but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to give her the satisfaction she would get from it. He would resist himself. He would resist her. Fuck her!

The sun had just disappeared below the horizon and Cindy hadn't returned yet. The longer he waited the more raw his nerves became.

He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore.

A car door slammed.

Cindy plopped a plastic shopping bag down on the table next to the couch. "Wanna watch some porn, Professor?"

- - - -

"She's pretty isn't she?" she said as if she was genuinely asking for his opinion.

The brunette on the screen looked very young--certainly not much over nineteen or twenty. She was very petite and was already in a cock-teasing state of undress even as the scene began. The camera lingered over her delicate body--the small butterfly tattoo that adorned her inner calf just above her ankle, the micro-shorts that barely covered the top half of her butt cheeks, her pierced navel, the tight fishnet top that revealed her breasts and small, brown nipples underneath, and the curve of her rosy lips, slightly parted with the invitation for any cock to slip between them and into her mouth. She was the skimpy, docile embodiment of pornographic fantasy, or at least she was close enough--very pretty indeed.

"Come on, you like her don't you?" Cindy reached her hand down and rubbed it against his cock. It responded to her delicate touch without hesitation.

Johnson didn't have anything to say anymore. All his concentration was focused on mitigating the tension throughout his body. His sexual responses seemed beyond his control. His hands were bound with steel cuffs behind his back as he sat in the large chair in his entertainment room, naked. Cindy lay cuddled up with him on her side with her butt against the arm of the chair, wearing her tank top and shorts. Her legs folded over top of his, and he could smell her silky hair resting against his chest. 

Before Cindy had started the movie, she'd helped Johnson graduate to the next size up. It still resided in his ass, squeezed against the soft seat of the chair. It poked into him and somehow enhanced his erection whether he liked it or not.

Johnson's eyes shifted over to the plain brown box she had set down next to the TV stand.

"I tried it on and everything, Professor!" she had said.

Although she hadn't opened the box, he knew what she was going to do. He couldn't stop it, and it was even more terrifying to think that perhaps he wouldn't want to.

Cindy continued rubbing her hand along his hard shaft as they both watched the screen. The smallest movement of his cock triggered a flurry of strange and stiff movements inside. He felt as if it was somehow connected to the molded bulge of acrylic that was skewering him--as if the pain amplified his arousal, and his very erection somehow deepened his violation.

The girl in the video was on her knees, wrapping her tender lips around an abnormally large, black cock. The man attached to it made no apology of fucking his generous endowment into her pliant mouth. Drool escaped the side of her lips and dripped down her breasts and on to her thighs. Her juicy grunts spoke of defiant submission as the odd couple cuddled up on Johnson's chair watched her.

"Mmm, she's a little slut, huh, Professor?" Cindy reached down and grabbed the base of his butt plug and pulled it out slightly, only to then release it and allow Johnson's ass to suck it into him again.

"Ugh, Jesus." Johnson's hands instinctively strained against his handcuffs. He tried to shift in the chair, but the weight of Cindy's body lying against him prevented it.

Her hair slapped against his face as she swung around to face him. "Time for a bigger one, Professor?"

He said nothing. She was going to do it no matter what he said.

The pretty girl on the TV screen was now taking the big black cock from behind. Her moans and heavy breathing created an unsettling atmosphere as Cindy rolled back and reached behind her to grab another toy from the floor. She quietly poured some lube onto it from Johnson's bottle, still cuddling her head against his chest. She pulled his leg back and carefully removed his butt plug, and then slowly started to feed him the larger one. Johnson's heavy, measured breathing seemed to mimic that of the girl on the television. He struggled to relax enough to accommodate its insistent entry--now more accustomed to what to expect, but no more comfortable with its all-consuming sensation. 

"Sshhhhh." She slowly eased it in, her body jostled by Johnson's shaky frame. His cock once again established its direct connection to the stiff plug as it squeezed inside him--massaging his prostate.

"Fuck!" he wailed. Cindy silently pressed her head against his heaving chest as his ass ingested the last of the plug--constricting around its thick base. The girl's building caterwauling on the screen seemed to mock him. He was convinced that her moans were born out of the need for intense illusion, while Cindy had made his own overwhelmingly real.

The porn girl had magically transitioned onto her back, and the dark cock penetrated her trimmed pussy in long easy strokes.

Cindy stood up and bent over to slip her shorts down her thighs. Conflicting, uncontrollable sensations racked Johnson's body behind her. The oversexed environment of the room, and his silent struggle against her very will, combined to create a maelstrom of chaos in his mind.

"Wow, look at the size of that cock, Professor." She looked at the screen as she showed him her ass and slipped off her panties. "Geez, that's big. I wonder what that would feel like."

Johnson's attention drifted from Cindy's slender body--now clad in only a skimpy yellow tank top--to the box on the floor. His rising fear seemed to coincide in a discordant way with the rhythmic slapping of the black man's balls against the submissive girl's tender pussy. Cindy resumed her cuddled position on top of Johnson. The slightest touch of her hand--every contact her smooth body made with his--seemed to feed his fear and his singularly anxious arousal. She curled up her legs so that one of her thighs rubbed against his aching cock. It felt so disgustingly good.

The faceless man on the screen reached out and edged his hand under the girl's brunette mane as he pulled his cock out of her. He guided her head upward and curled his fingers into her hair until she stood before him. She opened her mouth in a sharp intake of sensual breath as he yanked her head back and established his manly dominance

The camera followed the couple as his burly arm steered her down a hallway. Her obligatory high heels echoed loudly against the walls, the camera lingering behind to catch sight of her shapely ass. They reached a bedroom, where the man finally released her hair and allowed her to crawl onto the bed. Uneven rushes of air escaped her mouth as her intense eyes looked back at him with an indescribable expression of submissive anticipation. Then she bent down so that her cheek rested against the sheets--her ass jutting into the air invitingly.

"Wow," breathed Cindy. "Did you see her face?"

Johnson's heart thundered below Cindy's head. Feeling her body against his was exhilarating and terrifying. Every sensation electrified his nerves--her hair against his nipple, her leg against his shaft. Her reactions were so authentic, so confoundedly wide-eyed, yet her treatment of him had been so calculated, so unrelenting. The plug reaming his ass was a visceral reminder of what her insidious manipulations had turned him into.

The shiny black cock inched into the girl's tiny asshole. Her previous caterwauling aside, her moans were unmistakably real this time. 

Johnson could feel Cindy's heavy breaths. He felt his thrumming heart echoing in his ears. They both watched--each a silent voyeur. Cindy's delicate body shivered with intensity on top of him.

The brunette on the screen opened her mouth in an inexplicable expression of complex feeling. A gravelly whimper understated her extreme countenance as she willed her body to remain completely still--allowing the veiny endowment to creep into her stretched ass. He reamed her, slowly--deliberately with no apparent affection, no intimate feeling. Her submissive acceptance, an almost cherished expression of agony, slowly transformed into one of intense complexity. Pain, pleasure, hate, and sheer, willful abjection could all be seen in her vulnerable eyes.

Cindy's hand crept down Johnson's chest, and across her leg. He could feel her light fingers tickling his scrotum--taking the hairless folds between her fingers and lightly tugging at his sack, sending a chain reaction of sensation through the plug and into his ass. His cock ached with obscene need in the crook of her knee.

Her whisper was shaky--powerful. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard.

"Wanna try, Professor?"

Tense chills stabbed at the top of his spine.

"Cindy?"

Only the indescribable growls of the girl on the television answered him. 

"Please, just let me go."

"Nuh-uh," she said with a cold lust that left no room for debate. "No way."

"You're gonna get fucked, doggy," she breathed--the simple word somehow sounded more obscene than he'd ever heard it said before. Her young voice was steady with a sense of absolute, sensual power. Her eyes fixed on the screen as she lifted her head off his chest and started to stand up.

"Cindy. Not this. Just stop, please." His panic loomed. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to give her everything--anything but this.

She stood as if she was on the edge of a precipice preparing to jump. She took a deep, fluttery breath--her sexual instinct overtaking the last of her reservations--and bent over, impatiently fumbling through the box next to the television. She tossed a bottle of anal lube on the floor by Johnson's feet, and then turned around holding the black, rubber strap on cock in her shivering hands.

The porn girl's sheet-muffled screams of submissive strength coincided with the unrelenting strokes of the huge black snake slipping in and out of her ass.

Cindy eased the waistband of the rubber appendage over her thighs. She carefully slipped the curved inner nub--clearly designed for her pleasure--into her sopping pussy, then tightened the straps so that her lewd black cock silhouetted against the television. Her dry lips were parted, he could hear her labored breathing as her eyes enslaved his.

"Cindy."

She shook her head at him silently. 

"Take it out," she whispered with an unapologetic lust he'd only imagined that she was capable of, indicating the toy in his butt with her eyes.

Adrenaline coursed through him. His arms shuddered, and his hands tried to move, but he'd forgotten about his handcuffs. 

"I can't!" he panicked.

Her voice was steadily intense through her increasingly heavy breaths. "Do you want me to take it out?"

He didn't. He leaned forward carefully, trying to minimize the strain on his sore ass. He lifted his body up so that he stood and bent his back downward--squatting his knees in front of her, struggling to reach the base of the plug with his bound hands behind him. His hard cock dangled pathetically--thrusting toward her as he slowly eased the toy out of his anus.

"Aaahhh," his shaky wail echoed the muffled cries of the girl on the television. Finally, the slick plug was expelled onto the floor by his rapidly closing sphincter. 

Cindy's eyes pierced into him--lust and power colored them. 

"Get on your knees."

He paused. His body shook with terrified excitement. He dropped to his knees in front of the teenager.

Cindy reached her foot out as she rubbed her new cock with a comparatively small hand, and touched her sole to Johnson's throbbing member--rubbing it, kicking it. 

"God, you just can't help it, can you?"

Shame, fear and unfettered lust welled up in his soul. When had he become her slave? 

Cindy bit her bottom lip in a maddeningly cute smirk of lust as her toes played with his raging hard on--the smooth outline of her petite frame interrupted lewdly by the veiny protuberance between her legs. Her nipples poked through the tight yellow material of her tank top, which struck Johnson as the schoolgirl, navel-bearing equivalent of a wife beater t-shirt. Her tendons flexed under the skin of her slender forearm as she pumped on her unnatural cock. She was so heart-breakingly feminine, but her eyes were those of a hungry sexual predator.

Her breathy voice grunted. "All the way down. Get all the way down."

She reached forward and pushed his head toward the floor until his cheek rested on the carpet--his position not much different than that of the analized porn girl.

Cindy rested her foot on Johnson's face, curling her toes into the hair above his ear. Her voice shook with fierce restraint above him. "Oh, my God you're such a little cock-tease."

She stepped behind him. Johnson's breath heaved through his chest, his eyes wide, and his wretched cock jutting toward his belly. He felt Cindy's hand wrap around him, stroking him. His body shivered with anxious, helpless anticipation. His teeth chattered beyond his control. She was going to do this to him. A pent up urge--long denied--welled inside him. He wanted her to take him--even as his conscious mind screamed in defiance.

"You're too tall, bitch. Spread your legs." Her hand slapped against his inner thighs. His knees rubbed against the carpet as he spread his legs wider, lowering his ass and flattening uncomfortably under her on her command. He heard the squelching sound of thick lube behind him.

"Mm, I'm gonna fuck you, Professor." He could feel her thighs shaking against his as she took her final position behind him. He could smell her pungent, plugged sex through the rubber. Then he felt it. The cold tip of Cindy's lubed cock pushed against his abused ass. His arms struggled against the steel rings around his wrists. His breath quickened. The berber carpet scratched against his cheek. He felt his anus stretching painfully around the bulbous head.

His neck strained--teeth clenched--as his exploding lungs sprayed spit all over the carpet beside his face. "Uhnnn... Fuck!" He felt as if he was being split open a little bit at a time. Pain racked his body.

"God, look at that." He heard her thin voice behind him; her hand pushed against his back.

His knees slipped backwards in his instinctual efforts to get away from her. His butt dropped as her slick cock popped out of him.




Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 04



"No, no," she said with an impatience reminiscent of a spoiled child. He felt her reach her hand into the crook of his hip. She jerked him back onto his knees, and then grabbed a fistful of his hair. His head swung to the opposite cheek.

"Don't fucking move, doggy."

He felt like a wild animal--forced by the will of an insane teenager, and his own disgusting weaknesses into an unnatural act of supreme obscenity. Her cock pushed inside him again. He felt sickening freedom in his wretched submission. He didn't want this, but his body thirsted for it. Adrenaline assaulted his veins. Hyperventilation gave the carpet around his gaping mouth a humid warmth. He found the television in his gaze, and he suddenly felt a strange kinship with the lonely, intense eyes of the ass-reamed girl on the screen.

"Cindy," he expelled. "Wait. Wait!" The last of his dignity waged its final battle for his soul.

"Ohhhh, my gosh. You're so tight, Professor." Cindy moaned above him--clearly feeling her own portion of the toy inside her wet folds. Her small frame pressed into him--his ass stretching and sliding around her unnatural girl-cock.

He couldn't speak. He took deep, intense breaths--measured--all his concentration on relaxation. His ass was painfully stretched open, and he'd never felt so vulnerable in his life. His cock bobbed in her slender hand--accepting his violation in ways his mind was never prepared for. She used it as a handle to stabilize his skewered body, its movements contributing to inexplicable sensations he'd never felt before.

Finally, his mind on fire with shame and lust, Cindy's cock was completely buried into him. It poked inside, seeming to vibrate, as Cindy's body shuddered around the toy. He was hers. He was nothing more than her man-cunt--penetrated. Violated. Used for her own sick pleasure. 

He let out an uninhibited wail--an animal cry of stuffed, horny, subjugation.

"Fuck!" Cindy responded to him--jerking against his frail body bringing herself the pleasure of his sexual slavery through the hard rubber of their common link.

"What does it feel like to get ass fucked by one of your students?" she whispered.

Johnson's mouth drooled onto the carpet in a silent wail. His impaled ass was hers, and the tip of Cindy's monster cock poked against his insides--creating deliciously disgusting sensations of pure submission that he could not process.

Cindy pulled out of him, then pushed back in--starting to fuck him.

"God, I wish I could feel you, doggy."

She pushed and pulled slowly. Her strokes became long, pulling all that way to the head, and then slowly sliding back into him until her sticky, rubber balls clung to his own. Johnson's cock raged. He hated the sensation, but couldn't get enough of it. Cindy's smallest movements triggered floods of unfathomable feeling coursing through his insides. All of them somehow centered in his cock, which wanted release now more than ever. 

"Ugh. Uh. Uh. Oh my God." His grunts coincided with the increasing pressure of her thrusts.

"What's the matter, doggy?" Her movements stopped.

He wanted the sensations back. His anus constricted around her black dick--relishing his fullness, and squeezing more blood into his aching cock. He needed more.

"Please." He whispered frantically. The pleasure of his pain gripped every fiber of his being. He hadn't the presence of mind to understand it.

"Please what?" He could hear the unbelievable excitement in her young voice. To him, Cindy was a teenaged, sexual powerhouse. He was at her mercy.

"Fuck me." The words spat out of his mouth, but he couldn't believe them. Her stationary cock choked his ass as it pulsated around the rubber shaft.

"Ooo, what a bad, bad doggy. You want me to make you my bitch?" Her voice was quivering with restraint.

He hated himself. "FUCK!"

"You like it when little girls pump you in the ass?" 

He tried to writhe his body underneath her. She responded by burying her cock into him to the hilt--pressing all her weight against him, pulling back on his hair.

"AAHHH!" Johnson uttered incoherent obscenities into the carpet as his body was possessed by the unrelenting girl.

"Beg me!" 

"I'm yours! I'm your doggy! Just fuck me. Please, fuck me, Cindy." He no longer felt any control. He was her ass-whore. She had invaded his soul. He imagined her tense, slender legs behind her, her jutting nipples above him, the sugar-sweet euphoric intensity that was no doubt written across her face. He longed for her to fuck her rubber dong in and out of him once more.

"Just fuck me! Make me cum! PLEASE, CINDY!"

"Wow," she moaned with powerful energy above him and pulled her cock outward, releasing her weight on his body. 

"You're such a filthy little bitch." He felt her sliding in and out of him--raping his used ass. He felt every manufactured vein of her cock pass through his obscenely tight anal cavity. Every stroke heightened his sensitivity to her subtle movements, and the feelings of complete fullness brought into focus her absolute girl-dominance over his disgusting sexual needs.

"Oh my fucking God!" she said, "I'm gonna get off. I'm gonna make you get me off. You're going to be my fucking, little doggy cum slut, aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes! Whatever you want, Cindy! I'll be your cum slut!" His arms struggled against his handcuffs, wanting so badly to touch his raging cock. "Right now. Right now, cum slut!" She pulled slowly out in one last interminable stroke. Finally the head popped out of his dilated ass. It painfully clamped closed.

His mouth expelled a splatter of drool--a reaction to his complex physical punishment and overwhelmed state of mind. "Ohh. My God. Ohh."

His body collapsed and thrashed underneath her as his unsatisfied cock rubbed against the scratchy carpet. As Johnson desperately tried at once to catch his breath, get himself off, and come to terms with what had just happened, he lifted his head and saw Cindy's spastic fingers pulling impatiently against the straps of her toy--trying to get it off of her as fast as possible.

"Cindy. Please! Cindy!" He watched with insane need as her tight legs freed themselves of the strap on. She stepped next to his head and dropped her shiny ass to the floor next to his face.

"Eat my cunt!" She grabbed his hair roughly with outrageous impatience. She pulled his head up off the floor with no regard to his own needs. "Eat my cunt! You filthy fucking man-slut." 

She spread her legs, her knees bent upward straddling his prone face. Johnson felt her pulling his head toward her sopping pussy. He instinctively stuck his tongue out as she pressed his face into her sex with all the force her arms could conjure. He savored her familiar taste. He was so hungry for her; he wanted to crawl into her tender body and never come out.

Her hands were relentless, her fingers dug into his skull as she pressed his face hard against her wet lips. Her pubis thrust and squeezed against him, grinding her pussy around his tongue and lips and smearing his face with her juice. He worked his tongue frantically inside her, and along her shorn folds. Her hips bucked into him.

"Oh my FUCKING GOD!"

Johnson's legs struggled to get leverage, but Cindy's thrashing body and vice-grip prevented it. He was a mouth to her--a breathing, human cunt-licker to get her off, and he wanted desperately to get her off. Her scent invaded him. The scratchy carpet gave no pleasure to his cock--which was so tight and filled with his unmitigated lust that it hurt.

Her body thrashed, her thighs hugged against his ears, and her warm skin enveloped his wet face. 

Cindy screamed with a guttural release that seemed to seep directly into Johnson's taut psyche and bring him dangerously close to passing out. With all his lust channeled into Cindy's sweet sex, he wriggled his tongue against her hard clit--each stroke seeming to incite tiny explosions in her delicate body.

"Ahnnnn!" Cindy's incoherent cries spoke of indescribable pleasure. He could hear the unattainable longing inherent within them, and as she finally relaxed her grip on his hair, he looked into her face and saw it covered with tears. She looked at him with an inexplicable mixture of pleasure and anger that he couldn't fathom.

"Fuck, Professor!" she said almost desperately. "This isn't how this was supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to be. . . Dammit!" she cursed him, capturing his eyes with a look of dark connection that he hadn't seen before. "You're just such a," she sniffed and her face softened as she struggled for the word. "Prick." Another tear trickled down her cheek. Her face was flushed and beautiful, her hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead. He saw determined, yet compassionate eyes through the tears.

He was in no position to contemplate it. He needed to cum so badly. His cock ached with the need. He wanted her to make him cum in the most disgusting, shameful ways--just like she had done before.

"Sarah said she loved you, Professor--even after the shitty things you did." She wiped her streaming tears away with the back of her hand. "Maybe I should have believed her." She shook her head as if dismissing what she just said. "I don't know."

"Cindy. Cindy, please. Please." They were the only words he could form, as he reached out to her. He wanted her to take him, to use him. He was her slave. He needed to cum.

Her face turned cold; impatient; disgusted.

"What? Do you still need to cum, you filthy cock-slut!"

Johnson rolled onto his side, looking up at her, not having any words, and not having the presence of mind to comprehend hers. His raped ass felt painfully empty, and his all-consuming cock throbbed between his legs.

"You're so fucking pathetic. Get yourself off, you fucking prick!"

She turned away from him and ran down the hall--leaving him there. She stopped short of his bedroom door and turned around to face him before finally stepping in and closing the door behind her.

Johnson lay sprawled on the floor--his ass simply raw, his cock desperately wanting the young girl back, and his mind a chaotic typhoon of turmoil. He was consumed with the need to cum, shamed with his completed transformation into nothing more than her cum-junkied, ass slave, and troubled with the growing significance of the words she had just spoken. His stunned silence was only broken by the sound of a man's voice as it groaned from the television--the visage of his cock squirting its cum onto the docile face of a relentlessly fucked young girl.

To be concluded. . . 



Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 05



© 2004 by MLyons

Author's Note: The following story and the characters within it are purely a product of my imagination, and they are meant to be enjoyed only as a fantasy. Any similarity to real people or events is unintentional. 

Reproduction of this story in any form without express written permission from the author is prohibited.

Synopsis of Chapter 4: Cindy's ruthless humiliation of the Professor came to a head when she woke him up, still strapped to his fuck doll, and made him lick her off while she had phone sex with his boss. Cindy introduced toys into the Professor's ass, and they became progressively bigger throughout the day. Finally Cindy handcuffed him and brutally ass fucked him with a rubber strap on dildo. Johnson transformed into a quivering man-cunt, begging without shame for her to fuck him. She stopped and left him desperately unsatisfied before rubbing her cunt off on his face. Her anger with him for what he had done to Sarah Jennings was revealed, along with an inexplicable conflict inside of her. She locked herself in his bedroom while he was left there--handcuffed, "hard-oned", and confused on the floor of his entertainment room.

Chapter 5

Johnson's naked body writhed against the berber carpet of his entertainment room. His raw wrists chafed against the steel cuffs behind his back. Cindy had just ruthlessly butt-fucked him without ceremony, and then disregarded his needs by stuffing his face into her soaked pussy and using it as a living clit-stimulator. She had left him there, used and aching for orgasm with no practical way to get himself off. The carpet scratched against his blindly searching cock; his ass felt a painful emptiness. 

He raised his pain-racked body onto his knees and tried to rub his cock on the seat of the plush chair. His matted hair slapped against his forehead while he labored unsuccessfully to find a workable position. He fell back against his legs and surveyed the room, desperate to find something--anything--that he might be able to use. Through sweat-blurred eyes, he spotted Cindy's crumpled pair of panties on the floor. 

His reddened knees scraped against the carpet in an effort to reach them. He dropped his torso and crunched his cheek to the floor. The lube bottle chained around his neck smacked against his face and the carpet fibers flexed in reaction to his wheezing breaths.

"Bitch!" his ragged voice cracked. He clenched his teeth around the salty material of her panties in an attempt to unwind them.

All vestiges of rational thought escaped him as he rubbed her soiled underpants against the floor and shook them violently with his neck like a dog would play with his favorite toy. His throat growled in insane frustration. They defied him, remaining a twisted ball of stretchy material, as if bowing to their bratty owner's very will. He spat them to the floor and clumsily slumped his sweaty body on top of them, trying to position his dick to make use of the silky material. They uncooperatively rolled and bunched against the carpet when he thrust his pelvis against them. 

"Aauuhh!" He bellowed into the lint-trapped floor like a starving animal. His unmitigated desire stifled any meaningful words. He rolled over onto his back, painfully trapping his hands behind him before forcing his torso to sit up. His head shifted frantically on his shoulders, trying to think anything he could use to satiate this maddening desire. Suddenly, he had the answer!

Its lifeless, silicone frame lay acquiescently in his living room, waiting for him to go in and stuff his raging dick into its pliant holes. 

In a sobering moment of horrible realization, his stringy hair dropped in a wet mop over his forehead as he slumped his head in utter revulsion. That he'd even considered touching that fucking doll after what she had put him through with it yanked his animal mind from the clutches of insanity. 

The angry cock-hole between his legs peered stiffly up at him. His neck was a tightrope, straining and shaking. He contorted his face into a scream, in defiance of his aching need.

"FUCK!"

The orgiastic moans from the television focused his attention on the sex-saturated environment around him. The images of ripe, female flesh being plugged in various orifices by faceless monster-dicks further taunted his over-stimulated psyche. He looked around at the collection of fuck-toys that littered the carpet and felt like nothing more than a mindless, used receptacle for them. Cindy's veiney strap-on lay in a heap next to his legs--the portion that had been stuffed into his ass still streaked with thick lube, and her portion still shiny with her juices. His stomach tightened with fear and boundless lust at the very thought of her. He would never have imagined that the little girl in his office would be capable of such ruthless sexual enslavement.

He still felt her wet cunt leavings dripping down his face, and his cock once again reacted to the singular animal scent that now marked him as her man-bitch. His ass contracted in terrible pain. His senses were overrun with relentless reminders of what he had become. The thought of what she might do to him next terrified him. The thought that she might leave him in this condition and never come back scared him even more.

With deep, measured breaths, his chaotic mind defiantly willed his uncontrolled arousal into check. He would not give her the satisfaction. He tried to focus on what Cindy had said to him just before sequestering herself in his bedroom. 

Sarah! Somehow this all had to do with Sarah.

He stood up, and with his back to the television, awkwardly turned the fucking thing off. He switched off the lights and eased his ravaged ass into the chair, laying his head against the back. With Cindy in his bed and that devil-doll on the couch, he had nowhere else to go. He closed his eyes, feeling a deep sense of emasculation and shame. His mind's eye jumped back to the girl he'd watched getting fucked on the television as Cindy was splitting his ass open with that brutal rubber toy. Her sad eyes had spoken to him somehow, strangely comforting him during the horrible conflict of his ordeal.

They reminded him of the last night he'd spent with Sarah--the look on her face. The mixture of trust and betrayal in her eyes at the moment he took the last of her innocence seemed to sear into his consciousness. His burning sphincter pulsated each time his butt shifted in the chair. A troubled, waking dream took hold of his psyche and he vividly relived the events of that night.

- - - -

"Spread your legs a little more, Sarah."

He could see Sarah Jennings' frightened eyes in the bathroom mirror, a look of focused concentration on her face. Her soft lips were parted, and her breath jumped in and out of her mouth. Her arms were tight with tension, squeezing her bare breasts together and supporting her as she leaned over the bathroom counter. She shifted her legs unsteadily, further taxing the thin panties that stretched across her thighs. Her bottom jutted out behind her, and her legs terminated in a pair of modest, black heels. Aside from the panties they were the only pieces of clothing that remained on her after their dinner together that night. The rest were strewn along the bathroom floor. Johnson focused his attention on the work his finger was doing.

Sticky with the thick lube he'd applied, the rubber band-like entrance of her sphincter had just given way and slipped tightly around his fingertip.

"Wait," she said through her hitched breathing. "Wait!" She reached back and grabbed his hand to pull his finger out.

"Sarah, what did I say?" He grabbed her wrist and guided it back to the counter in front of her.

"Stephen, I'm scared. I'm scared." She swung her head around and looked at him, her brunette curls playing over her shoulder.

"Shhh. What did I say, Sarah?"

"Stay still," she said. "You said I should stay still and you'll go slow."

"That's right, now be a good girl, spread your legs again and lean over."

Her wide eyes shifted, struggling against her fears. She timidly leaned back over and waited for his finger to penetrate her again.

Not touching any other part of the trembling girl, he simply re-applied his fingertip to the tight entrance of her ass--once again carefully pushing it in and watching her intense face in the mirror. He knew it would hurt her a bit, but he also knew that there was much more at stake than that. He didn't just want to stretch her ass open, he wanted to take all of her remaining innocence away. That's what he longed to see in her face. He knew it was wrong. He could see the monster he'd become, but it was like a drug to him--more addictive than any narcotic.

He felt the tight muscles of her sphincter squeeze desperately around him, cutting off the blood supply to his fingertip. He could see the sheen of sweat appearing on her forehead while she dutifully remained in her submissive position. A moan escaped her lips.

"Relax, Sarah," he said soothingly. "Relax your body."

He felt her breathe, and her anus released some of its pressure as the first knuckle of his finger slipped past the snug ring of her opening.

"Ahhh, No. Oh my God." She whined into the mirror.

"Such a good girl." He wanted her to be his slut, and he could see the mixture of excitement and panic painted across her delicate face.

He pushed deeper, ever so slowly, watching her reflection. He could feel her alternately tightening and releasing her anus in her attempts to accommodate his insistent entry. It was delicious.

"Oh, Stephen. Stephen--wait." Her voice moaned through her breaths, but she remained obediently focused and did not move.

Finally, his finger was buried into her all the way to the base, the rest of his hand balled in a fist to avoid any unnecessary contact with her. He wanted her to feel penetrated--violated--with no feelings of tenderness. His eyes fixed on hers.

"It's all the way in, slut." He wiggled the tip of his finger inside of her.

She grunted; her eyes glazed over. Once again he saw that delicious mixture of utter shame and delicious arousal in her contorted face. She was so compliant; it was electrifying playing with her. Just out of curiosity, he allowed his ring finger to unfold and touch the opening of her shaved twat--it was warm and wet. She was already a slave to her sexual demons.

Her back arched before him, her elbows started to bend weakly in response to his finger's brush with her pussy lips. 

"Ohhh... fuck," she moaned with a mixture of pain, concentration and unbridled lust. He could feel the tension in her legs. He watched her shifting them slightly, in conflict with the need to stay perfectly still and avoid any sudden movements of his finger.

"Don't fucking move, Sarah." He eased his finger out slightly so that she clamped down on his big knuckle, and then he pushed it back in.

Even ten years later, he could still see the pain and torment on her face.

The older Johnson shifted in his chair. He wished the throbbing in his ass would go away. It still felt so open and exposed. He wanted desperately to close it--to reclaim what Cindy had fucked out of him, but each time he clenched his sphincter muscle, he was punished with increased pain. He grimaced as he recalled her hyper-charged voice in the recesses of his troubled mind: "Don't fucking move, doggy!"

His thoughts once again returned to the past.

"Where's that finger, Sarah?" He pulled his digit out again slowly, this time a little further, and then filled her up to the base again. His cock was aching in his pants.

"Ohhh, Stephen just stop. Please, stop." Her pleas of shame bubbled above the physical distress. He knew that she didn't want to submit to this, but her drenched pussy would soon give her no choice.

"Where is it, slut?" He fucked his finger slowly in and out of her ass hole.

"No. Come on; just fuck my pussy. You can tie me up." She tried to use her wiles to sway him. On another day it might have worked, but not today. Her arms buckled again in response to his invasion, her torso leaning over and resting on the cold marble counter.

"No, Sarah." He grabbed her long hair with his other hand and pulled her up again, arching her back and pressing her body against the finger that was fucking her ass. "No pussy fucking for you today, slut." He loved treating her this way. He could feel her ass muscles relaxing around his finger, and it was easier to pump in and out of her. She was a quick learner--but then she always had been.

"Stephen, I just want to fuck tonight. I don't want to play this game anymore."

Later, he would do the right thing. He would break up with her; he would free her from his sad life of excess. He knew what he was doing wasn't fair. He knew he didn't deserve this sweet slut, but he was too far gone now. He had to have her ass, and what made Sarah so deliciously addictive to him was that she was going to hate loving it.

"Stay there, Sarah!" he scolded her like a child and pulled back her hair even harder--riding her ass with his finger--now forcing it inside her sweaty body.

"Stephen, please. Why do I have to do this?"

He knew what to do. He let go of her hair and leaned over so that his mouth was against her ear. His finger kept probing in and out of her ass. "Sarah, sweety. Don't you want to be a proper slut?"

"Fuck you, Stephen," she said defiantly. 

He loved it when he coaxed out her anger, her defiance of her own submissive instincts. It would make violating her ass that much sweeter. She was so complex--so fascinating. He would miss her terribly.

He knew how to exploit her real weakness. He didn't understand her attachment to him--why she loved him, but she did. Seeing her now, he almost wished that he could love her back.

"Sarah. Will you do it? Will you do it for me?"

He saw her eyes looking at his reflection in the mirror. She studied him silently--her face a beautiful merry-go-round of arousal, affection and self-defiance. A tear rolled down her cheek as she mouthed the word silently: 

"Yes."

Her muscle squeezed against his finger. His cock felt like it was going to burst. The anticipation of stuffing Sarah's virgin ass with his dick was overwhelming. He didn't care about anything else. He made Sarah stay there grunting against his hand. Her heels were unsteady on the tile floor and her panties stretched beyond elasticity as he gathered more lube and worked two, and then three fingers into her slowly dilating anus. 

Eventually he lowered his own pants and started stroking his cock. Occasionally, his fingers would rub against her pussy and feel the juice that leaked out of her, only to reach out and pull back on her hair--wiping her wet sex into it.

"Where am I going to put my cock, Sarah?" He needed to hear her say it.

Between her deep grunts of pleasure and pain, he saw her eyes lock onto his. "In my ass. Okay? Are you happy, you ruthless fuck?"

God, he loved it--he fed off of her resistance. Her heavy breaths and shiny forehead showed her effort in trying to accommodate his fingers. Her flushed face and hard nipples betrayed her filthy arousal despite the submission and pain. He was going to take her, right there, right then. He wanted her to see her face the first time his cock violated her ass.

He pulled his fingers out, and once again took position behind her, watching her terrified face in the mirror.

"You filthy little whore."

He stuffed his dick into her soaking pussy. He figured giving her a little thrill wouldn't hurt, and a little extra lube wouldn't hurt either. She screamed with a dry throat as his cock filled her cunt.

"Oh my God," she said, her eyes wide open with unexpected bliss.

That was enough. He pulled out of her pussy and took aim at her puckered rosebud. He pushed her head down onto the marble countertop, causing her shapely bottom to jut out behind her. His hands pulled back her hair, forcing her chin to hover above the marble so that she faced herself in the mirror. With a little last minute dollop of lube, he pressed his cock against her opening. He watched her face contort, and heard her throaty protests as her ass started stretching around the head of his engorged member.

"Ohhh. My God. No. Wait! Jesus! Stephen, Stephen!" He was slow. He was careful, but he didn't stop. Her ass was so tight. It was so incredibly slick around his shaft--squeezing it, milking it in her efforts to allow him entry.

"Shhhh," he said quietly. He read her face in the mirror as she started to relax and allowed him to take her, both physically and spiritually. Her defiant eyes locked with his while his cock ever so slowly slid into her tightest and most forbidden hole. 

"Do you like being treated like this?" He couldn't resist. His cock slipped even further inside her.

Sarah's teeth clenched together and she wailed between them.

"God, your ass is so fuckable, Sarah." His shaft finally slid all the way in--he could feel his balls dangling against her wet pussy lips below. He ground his crotch against her soft flesh, and saw her mouth wide open in a silent scream.

"Ooooh, that's better," he said.

He stayed there, not moving--his cock completely buried inside her. 

She released an almost cathartic wail from deep inside her. The hard surfaces of the bathroom reverberated her body's pure, defiant surrender to his cock. To him, it was the sound of singular, possessive bliss.

"Did you ever think you'd let a man do this to you, Sarah?" He simply enjoyed her pulsating anus around the base of his cock. His victory became complete when he watched her slender arm move downward and slink toward her crotch. Her finger started working frantically underneath her glistening body, its movements tickling the hair on his balls.

Her breathing was ragged. "FUCK! Fuck, fuck," she cried with sharp anger and desperate pleasure below him. He pulled his cock out about half way.

She grunted loudly, and pierced him with her eyes. "Fuck you!"

He pushed in again, then out, then in--slowly, deliberately, ruthlessly. He started fucking her tight anus with his thick cock. 

"God, such a horny little slut!"

She grunted helplessly in time with his penetrations. Her wet body jerked against the cold marble of the bathroom counter with each of his ever more forceful thrusts.

Ten years later, Johnson was shaking his head back and forth in his entertainment room chair.

Images of the saliva soaked strands of carpet pressing against his nose, and the vivid memories of his own brutal butt-fuck rampaged through his mind. "Oh, you're such a filthy little bitch," Cindy's voice mocked him. Her rubber cock might as well have been real the way she had pounded into his abused body, taking as much pleasure from him as he had with Sarah those many years ago. The terrible pain and sense of enslavement he felt along with the insane need to cum had been all consuming. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

The memories of Sarah would not give him rest.

Johnson fucked Sarah's tender ass. He was close, and he knew that she was too. She had gotten used to his size, and to the feeling of his sodomizing cock. He fucked into her from his engorged head to his sweaty balls--using her, possessing her. The look on her face was inexplicable--pain, pleasure, surrender, and love all at once. He had now, finally, taken everything from her. The euphoria of his sexual power was overwhelming. He felt a tingle creep up from his loins, and the promise of his rising sperm began countermanding all other thoughts.

"Uh! Oh! Ooooh, my fucking God!" she wailed, her cheek now resting on the cold counter where a puddle of drool had collected near the corner of her mouth. He felt her shuddering uncontrollably below him. His cock erupted inside her, coating the walls of her ass with his sublime cum. Her anus strangled his cock--milking his seed into her until finally he collapsed on top of the defeated girl. She continued convulsing in sharp spasms below him as her orgasm subsided. He felt her slippery skin against his, and he felt the blood in his spent cock trapped by her constricted anal muscle.




Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 05



"Oh my God, Stephen, you're so amazing. You're so amazing." Her muffled cry was so sweet. She seemed so resilient, yet so conflicted. She really did love him, and as his shrinking cock finally slipped out of her tight ass-hole--her body flinching with the sudden contraction of her released sphincter--he knew it had to be over. He couldn't allow this to continue.

He was surprised by his own heartsick emotions as a tear of his own formed in the corner of his eye.

Through an exhausted and needful voice--as if seeking to justify everything she had given him--she sighed the question: 

"Do you love me, Stephen?"

- - - -

Johnson's eyes opened.

He never saw Sarah again after that night.

The horror of what he had done to her started to take hold of him. His aching muscles and swollen wrists only intensified the sensation. He realized for the first time what an unimaginable bastard he had been. He didn't understand until now--the violation--to be taken, used for someone else's pleasure, and worst of all, to finally be thrown away like a fucked-out whore. 

"Jesus, God!" he breathed. The deep sense of betrayal and her own feelings of self-hatred must have consumed her. He had left her feeling like a piece of used sex-meat--exactly the way he felt now.

Sharp signals of pain shot up from Johnson's abdomen as he tried to suppress a self-disgusted chuckle. He thought leaving her was the right thing to do at the time. He wanted to save her from himself. He was so fucking stupid. Gentle Sarah--she had really loved him. He never knew why, and only at the very end had it even meant enough to him to try to make amends--to set her free. She had deserved so much better. 

Overwhelming shame washed over him. He curled into himself on the chair--his pain racked body reinforcing his own feelings of despair. He wished he had never been born. 

He felt disgusting. Empty. 

Old.

Tears started rolling down his face. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to know what had happened to her, and he wished he could somehow make amends. He hoped that she had found someone worthy of her--someone who would take care of her. He wept for the piece of her gentle soul that he had stolen--a possession his heart treasured now more than ever.

His sobs slowly ebbed into wheezy breaths, and he finally fell into a troubled slumber.

- - - -

Silence.

Johnson became aware of the soft light leaking through his closed eyelids, even as he lingered on the reflections in his mind. He was lost in a blurry haze somewhere between his dreams and reality--his mind flooding with questions, regrets and pathetic shame. 

Signs of the real world started to become more prevalent. One by one, the signals from his ragged nerve endings to his brain started trickling in. His eyes fluttered open in response to the haze of illumination that penetrated them.

He was in a painful daze, unsure of where he was, or when. His head lay back on the chair, resting on its side. In his line of vision was the silhouette of a female form. She was leaning against the doorway to the room. Her gentle curves were backlit by the warm glow that washed through the hallway behind her. She was naked. Her head leaned sideways, the light playing through the soft strands of her hanging hair. Something dangled from her hand, it looked to be a belt, or strap of some kind. He could barely make out the girl's eyes reflecting the light that washed over his chair.

She watched him in silence.

"Sarah?" His weak voice barely trickled through his parched throat. He wanted so much for it to be her. He wanted to hug her. He wanted to warm her--to treasure her--as he should have years ago. He wanted to apologize for ever having insinuated himself into her life.

She didn't answer. She didn't move. She was so beautiful.

As Johnson's conscious mind slowly returned to him, he smelled his juice crusted face and felt the tender puckered flesh of his bottom. His breath quickened uncontrollably when it slowly dawned on him where he was.

The girl abruptly shifted her weight away from the wall and started walking slowly towards him with the shadowy straps swaying below her fist.

"Cindy?"

His heart hammered in his chest. Sweat seamed to rush out of his forehead with his renewed terror. What the fuck was she going to do? 

"Wait. Cindy. Please!" he begged, ignoring the pain in his shoulders as he struggled uselessly against his steel bonds. He felt completely helpless.

She touched the unidentified object she was holding against his dry lips. He struggled for air and inadvertently opened his mouth, allowing her to press the rubber ball between his teeth. 

"Quiet time, doggy." She strapped the ball gag behind his head.

She stepped back as his eyes finally started to regain their focus. 

The gently pressed line that ran down between her breasts and through her flat navel seemed to shimmer in the side lighting from the hallway. Her chest was flushed, and the erect shadows that her nipples cast along the sharp curves of her breasts called directly to his trapped tongue, which instinctively licked the back of the rubber ball in his mouth. Her shaved pussy, the object of so much of his humiliating desire in the past couple days, still looked so young and enticing, yet he knew better. He knew how selfish it was--how ruthless.

He begged; he apologized; he lusted. Above all he wanted to express to her his terrible regret in hopes of her granting him mercy. Instead, Johnson's gagged mouth emanated wet, incoherent moans.

Her intense eyes told him she wasn't listening anyway. They played over his body with hungry contempt. Her fingers rested along her tight thighs and started inching their way upward, tracing the profile of her frame to her breasts where they tickled and pulled at her erect nipples so that they stretched into peaks before him. 

"Oh my God," her barely audible voice breathed. She looked at his hardening cock and sticky body as if he was nothing more than a plaything that she was preparing to make use of.

"Fuck it." She breathed out in a clear, lust-fueled decision, and silently walked over to the corner of the room to one of her cursed grocery bags. 

Johnson wished desperately that he could read her thoughts. Her hungry eyes scared him.

She pulled out a collar with a chain attached to it, and something else that looked disturbingly similar to a snake with two bulbous ends, which she tossed under his chair. Her hands fumbled with acute impatience while she quickly buckled the scratchy leather tightly around his neck.

Her tiny nipple, only a tongue's length away from his bound mouth, seemed to quiver in response to the adrenaline he could practically see pumping through her body. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, along with the fluttering sound of the breath escaping her lungs. Her hands wrapped around his ankles and yanked them downward so that his sore ass dangled off the edge of the chair. She then pushed against his thighs so his feet dangled helplessly above him.

She grabbed the bottle of anal lube from the floor and opened it--applying it to whatever she had hidden under the chair. Johnson bicycled his legs, wanting to edge his ass up the chair and protect it from whatever she had planned, but at the same time, not wanting to defy her.

"Uhhnnn!" he screamed with frustrated fear.

The bottle vibrated in response to her squeezing fist; her eyes focused on her task as if he wasn't even there. She put her hand on his ass to split his crease open. Her other hand revealed another rubber cock, this one much thinner than the strap on that she'd used on him earlier, but also longer. The sticky tip pushed against his loosened anus. His cock jumped stiffly and he grunted in searing pain as she impatiently stuffed the toy into him. She watched with charged fascination while he thrashed on the chair struggling to process all the conflicting sensations of his body and mind. 

As she released his ass cheeks, he noticed a thin rubber tube extending from his ass and dangling off the front edge of the chair. Johnson hyperventilated through the wet rubber in his mouth, and his heart raced.

All of Johnson's earlier thoughts of using Cindy--of filthy, cock-stuffing, skull-fucking revenge were long since gone. Only the terrible feelings of cunt-starved terror remained. His body jerked spastically, and his mind was a maelstrom of oversexed stimulation. His insane slavery was more evident to him than ever when all he could think about was her tender flesh, and his need to feel it in whatever debasing capacity she was willing to allow.

Cindy stood up and grabbed his jangling bitch-leash, yanking hard up on it and interrupting the air to his lungs. He got the message and carefully lowered his legs, then moved his butt up the chair so the toy was squeezed against the seat below.

She lifted up on the rubber tube sprouting from his ass, revealing the bulb at the end. Her hand started pumping on it, and he felt renewed pain in his expanding cavity. She straddled him and rested her bottom on his thighs. He could smell her shaky breath as she reached down and jerked on his cock like she was preparing it for use.

His voice cracked through his gag.

Every inch of her body seemed to twitch with sexual energy. She rested her wrist on his shoulder and kept pumping at that fucking bulb right next to his ear. 

Ffft. Ffft. The air breathed through the bulb and transferred into his splaying anus. His toes curled, then immediately stretched apart in an opposite reaction to avoid the impending cramps in his feet. 

"Uuhnn!" He screamed into his gag with a combination of pain and ruthless pleasure. She bit her lip and watched his face with wide eyes, still relentlessly pumping her fist in his ear.

Ffft. Ffft. Ffft.

He was fuller now than he had ever been. The terrible device stretched out his insides, poking against his prostate. His cock responded obediently to the stimulation of her stroking hand and the toy's prodding. She carelessly tossed the bulb aside so that it dangled off the chair.

She paused, and looked away from him, seemingly in the midst of a terrible internal conflict that had very little to do with his needs. 

"Fuck," she whispered shakily, and then turned her attentions back to his face. Her eyes were filled with a strange understanding and longing. She breathed in through her parted lips while she looked at him, and her sticky bottom abruptly lifted off of his thighs, leaving his legs to rapidly cool from the evaporating perspiration. She held his cock upright, and her sweet pussy lips barely tickled the hole of his engorged tip. His thighs shivered involuntarily underneath her. His sex-blurred vision could barely make out her perky tits jutting toward his face.

He couldn't breathe. The kaleidoscope of deep emotions in her face was indescribable.

She took in a deep breath through her clenched teeth and pressed her tense calves against his thighs, lowering her frame onto him. 

" Ohh." Both Cindy and Professor grunted in a gravelly chorus as her impossibly tight cunt molded around the aching head of his cock. The divine feeling seemed to intensify the already overwhelming stimuli that racked his body and mind.

She released his disappearing shaft from her guiding hand and grabbed the leash next to his neck. Her slick folds squeezed snuggly against him as she released her pent up breath onto his lips. Her blue eyes bore into his, and the tips of their noses touched. Slowly, her wetness consumed him.

He closed his eyes, letting the sublime pleasure of her heavenly body and the evil sensations of her latest instrument of sexual slavery envelope his very soul.

Her intense gaze seemed to pierce through his eyelids, and she suddenly jerked hard on his leash, prompting him to quickly open his eyes again. She slowly slipped up and down around him--breathing deeply in and out with every stroke. His breaths matched hers, and it was the only sound that broke the silence between them.

Her eyes seemed to talk to him. He felt her innocence in them, her intensity, her pain, and most of all, a singular, animal desire. She fucked him. Her pussy constricted around his cock; her firm nipples rubbed against his. She took pleasure from him as if she was sucking his soul away. His skewered ass, his engulfed hard on, and her deafening silence were unavoidable reminders of his status as nothing more than a mindless pussy-slave. 

Sarah must have felt exactly like this. He had no control over anything, least of all his body's inescapable need for Cindy's very essence. His hips ignored the delicious agony their thrusting caused him as his cock reached deep inside her with an insatiable hunger he'd never felt before. The desperate feeling was both exhilarating and horrifying.

Her pace quickened. Tears rolled down her cheeks; her breathing became desperate. She was reacting to him, and whatever she was seeing in his eyes. He saw himself in her face--a lusty, guilt-ridden expression that reminded him of the awful things he'd done to Sarah. He somehow knew that Cindy must be feeling the same thing he was, and yet, like him those many years ago, she couldn't deny her insatiable cunt's desire his undeserving cock. He suddenly felt more connected with Cindy than he'd ever felt with anyone. He wanted to surrender to her, to share with her.

"Fuck you, Professor!" she sobbed. As if unable to do anything else, her hand plunged down between her thighs and she fingered her engorged clit while she fucked him. With the intense effort of her fiercely strong pubis quaking against him--his cock sucked into her sticky, young body--he felt more subjugated to her in that moment than ever before. She pounded and ground her shuddering hips against him. 

He bellowed into his gag with pain, grief and need; spit escaped the corners of his mouth landing on Cindy's clit-focused forearm. His mind and body were overwhelmed.

Her intense eyes drew his gaze like a black hole, focusing his anguished psyche into the comfort of her connected spirit. Her sweet voice started low with a tiny whimper and crescendoed to a whine, then a soul-wrenching wail as her pussy convulsed in orgasm.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God!" She screamed out. Her eyes finally closed and her head tilted upward. "Fuck! Make me cum you fucking prick!" The rubber cock-balloon poked and thrust into his hole. Her soaked body spasmed uncontrollably, thrashing against him. Suddenly, the over-stressed plug in his ass burst and deflated, causing his anus to painfully contract. It sent him over the edge.

"Mmnnn!" Tears streaked down his cheeks. His toes tensed against the floor, pushing his cock as deeply into her pleasure-racked body as he could. He felt his cum escaping in violent bursts, injecting his very essence into the beautifully enigmatic girl on top of him. Self-loathing, sinful pleasure, and his ravenous desire for every complex fiber of Cindy's being erupted in an emotional volcano in his mind. His vision blurred. Absolute mental and physical exhaustion fell over him.

Cindy stopped shaking and slumped her tired body against his chest--almost knocking the wind out of him. She continued squeezing her pussy around his softening cock. She shared her connection with him, even as he felt the young girl weeping against his chest. In many ways, she still seemed like an innocent child, but in so many others she was anything but.

"Dammit!" she cried. Her body seemed to be in such conflict between pleasure and deep anger. "You took Sarah away from me, you abusive fuck." Johnson couldn't process his emotions. He just listened. "She's just empty inside. Do you understand? She doesn't let anyone in. How could you do that to her?" She painfully gripped the flesh of his breast in her hand to get his full attention. 

"She's my sister, Professor!" she screamed through her tears. "First my prick dad just fucked my mom one night didn't even care that I was born. He didn't tell Sarah, or his wife about me. I didn't even know I had a sister! And then you had to come along." 

She wept uncontrollably. "And here I am fucking coming all over you." 

"What the fuck is wrong with me!" she screamed at the ceiling, digging her fingers into his breast and arm, and frightening him with a remarkable spiritual power he had finally learned not to question. 

Tears ran down his cheeks.

"She didn't deserve that, Professor. She deserved so much better than either of us. Look at me, I'm just as bad as. . . ." She shook her head, breaking off her gaze, lost in her own world. "I'm so stupid." She buried her face in her hand, sniffing back her tears. Her shaky legs lifted her lithe frame off of him as if she wanted to get as far away as possible. He moaned in anguish at the cold emptiness he felt when her warm pussy expelled his unworthy cock. 

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to regain her composure.

"She just deserves better." She was tired, and depleted.

Johnson's ass was in terrible pain. His spent cock glistened with Cindy's juices. He already missed her warm, generous body. He wanted her back. He wanted her to tease him. He wanted to be humiliated, as long as he could be close to her. He wanted to crawl inside her. His sorrowful thoughts of Sarah took a back seat to his extreme fear that Cindy was about to leave and never return.

"Do you understand?" She was still looking at him.

His brain was overloaded with thoughts and images of Cindy. His eyes glazed over. He was almost catatonic with sensual overload. His single-minded gaze reveled in watching the thick dollops of his cum dripping down her thighs out of her gorgeously fucked pussy. She caught him staring at her and spread her legs to see what he was looking at. 

With a renewed focus and clarity, a strange understanding started to take shape in her face. Her playfulness once again started to return as if all was not lost. "You like that pussy, doggy?"

Johnson whimpered weakly. The only sane part of his mind that remained knew that he must sound like a whining dog deprived of his favorite toy. His jaw ached, and his taste buds begged for just one more lick along her gorgeous skin. His nose sniffed wildly, taking in all the sex-scents that had saturated the room, trying to pick out Cindy's lotion, her hair conditioner, and the deep aroma of her sopping cunt. He couldn't help it.

"Oh my God." He could tell she finally understood what she'd done to him. She knew how much he wanted her. She knew what he had become. With renewed electricity, she said, "You don't want me to go."

"Mmmmff," he whimpered. He shook his head out of pure instinct. It was the last thing he wanted in the world.

She looked at him mischievously. She soaked up his need for her as if it was a shot of pure adrenaline, and suddenly reached down to grab her bunched panties off the floor. She rested her foot in the seat beside him so he got a good close up view while she wiped her reddened cunt clean of his sperm. 

"Here." She tossed her soiled panties onto his already rejuvenating cock. "Those are for your dolly, Professor." she sniffed. "You two were made for each other."

He watched helplessly while she quickly slipped back into her shorts and tank top. 

She appraised him one last time with contemptuous, yet sad eyes--carefully weighing her words and understanding their full impact on him. 

"I hope you miss me, Professor."

- - - -

"Professor Stephen Johnson?" asked the man at the door, carrying a package under his arm.

"Not anymore," answered Johnson. He reflected on the months since he'd gone to any classes. At first the dean was furious with him, and not long after that, the University had fired him. Ronald Tyrney's string of nasty messages about his obligations to Young Industries followed, and there was no fucking way he was talking to that man--the unwitting accomplice to one of Cindy's cruel mind-fucks. Just like that, Johnson had been disemployed--retired.




Cindy: The Professor's Bane Ch. 05



He still held the money he'd embezzled, but there was no joy in it. He hadn't so much as ventured outside the house in weeks. 

Paranoia had set in over time. He was convinced that somehow Cindy was watching him. He dared not dispose of the sex doll or any of the other toys she'd left for fear of her. They all still sat in the doll's box in his garage. He was worried that she might return, and terrified that she might not.

"What can I do for you?" Johnson nervously asked the plainly dressed man.

"Well, are you Stephen Johnson or not?"

The question nagged at him. Was he?

While his body had eventually recovered from the abuses of those three days, his soul seemed empty, and permanently marked by her youthful mind games and indomitable sexual power. He hardly thought of anything else anymore.

Since Cindy left, he'd never felt so alone in the world. He still marveled at the kind of planning, courage, and iron-will she must have had in order to do something like that to him, and the kind of pain she must have been in to motivate it. The guilt of the terrible things he had done had not subsided, but thoughts of her scent, the thin straps crisscrossing tightly up her calves, her blonde pigtails, and her flushed reactions to him never seemed to give his mind any rest. They mixed together with the deep sexual subjugation of her huge rubber cock stuffing his ass, and her silky pussy lips engulfing his enslaved cock. The flashbacks were nightmarish in intensity, and still managed to make his heart pound and his body sweat.

The unforgettable connection of being inside her was animal, and the memory always sparked a quivering longing all throughout his body. She had torn a piece of his soul away that night. He still couldn't understand how he had allowed her to consume him like that; all he knew was the terrible emptiness he now felt inside. 

Was he really Stephen Johnson anymore?

"Yes, that's my name," he sighed.

"Package for you sir. You'll have to sign for it."

And still, there was Sarah. She haunted him like a spectre in the deep recesses of his mind, as if she was the life he could have had. Sarah was the only one he had encountered who actually seemed to care about him, and he treated her worse than anyone. He felt completely unforgivable--broken.

Johnson was apathetic about the plain white box. "Who's it from?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say, sir. I'm just a courier. You can refuse delivery of course, but the identity of the consigner was to remain confidential."

Johnson turned the box over. In the corner in small, pink unforgettable handwriting was written: 'My Naughty Little Doggy'.

A wholly unexpected flood of adrenaline pumped through his veins. Johnson's heart suddenly raced like he'd just run a four-minute mile. Cindy had sent something to him. 

His Cindy!

"Yes. Okay." He couldn't breathe, and cleared his dry throat, trying not to give away his reaction to the courier. It was a terrible rush--both frightening and electrifying. His hand shakily grabbed the pen looking impatiently for the appropriate place to scrawl out a signature, so he could dismiss the courier. "Here?"

He looked at the package with intense apprehension. He hated his fear; he hated the absolute need he felt in the pit of his stomach.

He tore at the box in his hands. He was scared and quickened by the prospect that she wasn't done with him after all, and felt more alive than he had in months. He couldn't explain it. He just wanted to hear her again, to see her. He salivated at the thought of her taste.

Three items dropped out of the box. One was a compact digital camera. Another was a small plastic vacuum bag, which looked to lock in a tiny cotton thong. His trembling fingers fumbled like those of an impatient child in his attempt to rip open the bag. The instant he penetrated it, air rushed in, and the cunty scent was released. 

It was Cindy. 

The unique aroma of her sex seemed to seep directly into his pores, and his cock hardened as if he was a fucking Pavlovian dog. He urgently pressed the filthy garment to his face, his entire body shivering and alive in a whirlwind of unexpected emotions. His tongue snaked out of his mouth, wanting to taste her. He felt vile and pathetic, like a filthy dog eating its own feces, and yet his conditioned instincts overpowered him. He sobbed uncontrollable tears into the damp material, realizing his desperate weakness in reaction to the pungent smell in his nose. 

He almost didn't notice the slip of paper that floated out of the box and landed on the floor: