WILD PLEASURE {short erotic stories} Chapter 93: Spanked by Her Student (2)

Chapter 2: How Valerie Got Into Her Predicament

Two weeks earlier, Valerie had simply been a thirty-something professor of philosophy, not an owned slut. Actually, she’d been the one doing the owning, after a fashion. Her long-distance relationship with Rob, who taught at MIT, had crumbled months earlier. He’d shown himself to be a bit of a priss, and Valerie wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, so they amicably agreed to split up and see other people.

Valerie had gone on dates, but they’d been lackluster. One was a talker, never letting her get a word in edgewise. Another kept staring at her feet, until she regretted wearing strappy sandals. And the third? When he bent to pick a nickel up off the restaurant’s floor, she saw a frilly, hot pink thong peeking out above his waistband.

So she’d sighed, resigned herself to being single, and became good friends with her vibrator.

Until the day she’d really noticed Marcus.

It was a bit over two weeks ago. She was lecturing her introductory logic class, giving their brain a warm-up for the quiz she was giving that day. Valerie had scrawled simple logic equations on the chalkboard, large enough for them to see clearly. “And this,” she said, punctuating her speech with an abrupt chalk line beneath the answer, “is why you can’t have your cake and eat it too.” She hadn’t turned back to face the class again yet, but she felt their eyes boring into her.

Thirty pairs of college-aged, mostly male eyes. Just thinking of all the fit, attractive, well-hung young men behind her — and probably staring at her round behind — made her pussy tingle and a pleasant shiver go through her gut.

That she enjoyed wearing short skirts made it all that much more fun to tease. Her dean had sent a curt e-mail to the department a few months ago, saying there had been complaints and he was instituting a rule: skirts absolutely, positively must cover the entirety of both ass cheeks, no ifs, ands or butts. Valerie had probably been the impetus for that e-mail.

She whirled back around to face the undergraduates, and her skirt swirled up around her hips, briefly exposing a pair of modest white panties to the entire class. One of the few girls in the class rolled her eyes, but the boys paid rapt attention. Valerie picked up a stack of papers and distributed them to the front desks, and the students passed the pages back one by one.

“Here’s the quiz that was promised,” Valerie said. “You have until the end of class to identify and label the logical fallacies in these arguments.”

The pretty boy who always lounged insolently in the back raised his hand. “Miss Dewhurst, so we’re to look for fellatious arguments then?” he asked without waiting to be called on. Valerie was certain she heard some impropriety in his tone, but the homonym was too close — if she corrected him, the entire class would know what she was thinking. The boy, whose name was Marcus, was well hung. She knew. She’d looked. She’d seen the bulge in his jeans, how it strained at the rough denim even though it was flaccid.

Valerie felt herself blushing. “Yes,” she snapped, immediately regretting losing her cool. It could have been an innocent question. “That’s precisely what the quiz is about.” Marcus nodded and turned to his quiz, and the rest of the class followed suit.

Valerie worked on grading her other class’ quizzes while the students scribbled answers on their own test sheets. She felt very responsible. As they turned in their quizzes one by one, she awarded them with supportive smiles. As the end of class time neared there was only one student left, boyishly handsome Marcus of the well-shaped body and knowing smile.

She rose and began erasing the simple equations she’d written from the chalkboard. She felt her skirt swish while she worked, and wondered how much it was revealing. She looked back over her shoulder and Marcus was just sitting there, in the back, sprawled lazily. “Keep going,” he called. “Don’t mind me.”

Valerie awarded him one of her supportive professor smiles and turned back to erasing the chalkboard.

“...I’m enjoying the show,” Marcus finished.

Valerie whirled back around. “What?” she demanded. No student had had the temerity to talk to her this way before.

Marcus got up and walked to her desk. He set his quiz on the pile. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Miss Dewhurst. Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain.”

It had been a lie, Valerie knew now. He’d said it deliberately, just as he’d deliberately feigned sheepish regret.

“That’s okay, Marcus,” she’d said at the time. “How was the quiz?” Marcus grimaced. “Not so good.”

Valerie recalled her last grading session for this class. “You’ve got about a B+ going, if I recall correctly. That’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“But I want an A. I really need to ace everything.”

“Why? Doing your best is a better goal.”

“My family has high expectations.” He was probably right. His

family was a fairly famous name, known for business acumen — some called it ruthlessness — being filthy rich, and rumored in some circles to dabble in unsavory ventures. What those ventures might be Valerie had no idea. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Well, I’m sure you did well,” Valerie said.

When the conversation began, they had been standing on either side of the desk. As they spoke Marcus worked his way around the side, and now he was standing uncomfortably close to her. “Valerie,” he said. “May I call you that?”

She nodded. It was a bit forward, but she often let students speak familiarly with her.

“Valerie, I find you very attractive. I’ve seen you looking at me. Do you find me attractive too? Don’t lie,” he added. “I’ll know if you’re lying.” Flustered, Valerie said, “Of course. But you’re just an attractive guy. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m not behaving improperly towards you,” she added hastily. She wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling the dean had it in for

her. He could have set Marcus up to entrap her somehow.

“No, of course you aren’t,” Marcus murmured, sidling a bit closer yet

to her. He smelled like...she didn’t know what he smelled like, but he smelled good. She laid a hand on the desk to steady herself.

“Listen,” Marcus said, “we’re both adults here. I want you, I’m pretty sure you want me—” he shot her a laconic smile — “and I need a good grade. When’s the last time a man made love to you?”

He had some nerve, Valerie thought, but the thought was quiet, overridden by her libido. He was hot, he made her hot, and, given his age and status as a college student, he wouldn’t form an attachment to her.

“That’s a personal question!” she said, unwilling to admit it had been months ago.

“It’s been months, hasn’t it?” Marcus asked tenderly.

She could love him and leave him, and neither of them would be hurt. “Well...” she demurred.

She could have an orgasm that wasn’t at her own hand. She could feel a penis inside her, taste a cock, wrap her legs around that muscular ass.

Marcus let the silence hang.

“Yes, it has been,” she said.

He did have almost an A already. It would be a simple matter to adjust

the curve a tiny bit, and it wouldn’t even appear improper, even if analyzed closely.

But what if someone caught wind of the affair? What if he bragged on Facebook, or someone caught him making eyes at her in class? It would be a scandal. She’d be fired, out on the street, a black mark on her teaching record making her virtually unemployable.

“But I can’t,” she said, feeling more in control; she’d made her decision. “I can’t take that chance with my career. We aren’t supposed to sleep with students.”

Marcus looked crestfallen. Valerie took pity on him. “Tell you what. Give me your number, and we can talk about some tutoring or other non sexual options for improving your grade, okay?”

To her surprise, Marcus handed her a business card. His fingers brushed her hand as she took it from him. It had his family’s name and business on it along with Marcus’ name and number. “Call me anytime,” he drawled.

Valerie nodded numbly and watched his behind as he walked out of the classroom.