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.