The Professor's Pet (A BDSM Romance Novel) (4 page)

“Ass,” I whispered. I clenched my eyes shut, not recognising myself in this creature who lay on Jake’s lap; who talked with my voice, but begged for forbidden acts with a tone of longing and passion.

His fingers reached back to my pussy, spread the wetness from it to my ass, adding a second finger, still only as deep as the first knuckle. He moved his fingers in me, twisting and turning till I relaxed against him, letting him invade my most private of openings.

“Have you done this before?” he asked me. I shook my head from my position on the bed. I’d never even thought about it until the moment when I felt his finger there, and suddenly craved much more.

“Hmm,” he said. He pulled me off his lap, flipped me over, and pulled me up and into the curve of his shoulder. He was still fully clothed; I was naked. I felt exposed and vulnerable, as I buried my face in his chest.

“Are you sure
you want me to fuck your ass?” he asked me. I could feel his eyes on my face, but I kept mine lowered. His fingers moved to my pussy, stroking me, taking stock of the gushing wetness there.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” I whispered. I could feel him smile.

“Tell you what, Emily,” he said, a finger tracing the line of my jaw. “You want this, we’ll go slow. I’ll be as gentle as I know how. You’ll either enjoy it, or we’ll stop.” He kissed my lips briefly; the first time he’d kissed me all night. His hand reached out to cup my breast, pinch and pull my nipple gently away from my body.

“But we don’t have to do this. This isn’t some game in which you constantly have to escalate the stakes. This is about fun; you having it, me having it; and my job is to make sure you feel safe.”

I looked at him. For almost the first time that evening, there was no mocking amusement in his eyes. Just sincerity. It took the edge off my uncertainty.

“I want this,” I said
, hesitant, yet committed. “But Professor Ballard, please be gentle.”

***

His eyes were on me as he moved me off his lap, stood up with cat-like grace. “Come here,” he ordered. “Help me get my clothes off.”

I unbuttoned his shirt, pushed it off his shoulders. His hands were on his belt buckle, he slid off his belt in one easy motion; undid his fly and stepped out of his pants and briefs. His cock sprung out, hard and perfect and ready.

I couldn’t help it; I wanted it in my mouth again. I licked my lips involuntarily, heard him chuckle. “Nope,” he rebuked. “Be good. Get back on the bed, hands back on the slats.”

I assumed my position, my eyes flashing protest. I wanted to touch that body of his; wanted to feel every muscle, every hard bit of him. He looked amused at my resentment; he grinned and winked. “The belt isn’t far away, Emily,” he warned, laughter in his voice. “That was a pretty mild spanking
. Trust me, you don’t actually want serious punishment.”

Did I not? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I did know that I wanted to experience everything he had to offer; I wanted to place myself in his care entirely, and see where he took me.
I gripped the slats; he lowered himself onto me.

“Such temper, Emily,” he muttered, as his mouth lowered onto my lips. I groaned as I felt his
weight on my body, my mouth opened to his marauding tongue and he plunged into me. I offered everything; he took everything; leaning over me like a brooding god, his erection bumping against my lower stomach in a way that had me pushing my hips upward into his body.

He broke off the kiss, his mouth moved lower; one hand propping him up, the other reaching around a breast, cupping it as his
lips and teeth descended on my nipple, sucking and biting in a way that had me delirious with need. I heard myself moaning, trying to push more of my breast into his mouth.

“Stay still,” he growled, a nip on my nipple to make his point. A tinge of pain blossomed into pleasure, and I hissed in arousal as wetness flooded my pussy.

“Please,” I begged softly.

“What do you want, Emily?” He raised his head to look at me, his eyes holding mine captive; demanding
complete honesty.

“Bite it again,” I asked, flushing as I begged him to mark my body. He smiled and complied; and lust shot through my body again.
His mouth moved onto my other nipple, nibbling, biting, bringing me to the edge of pleasure and holding me there expertly.

“Professor Ballard,” I groaned. I needed to feel him inside me, pussy, ass, I didn’t care where at the moment; I just needed him inside me. Taking me hard; hurting me good.

He let go of my breast, reached away from me to the bedside table. I could hear the drawer open and close; I could hear a tube being squeezed. Lube, hopefully.

He straightened; his hands were on my thighs, parting my legs, then his fingers
were lower. I could feel him brush past my pussy, go lower, find my puckered hole. A small circle around that tight bud, then his finger was pushing the lube into me, stretching me out, adding another finger and wriggling them in me. 

I groaned. I needed him deeper in me. “Deeper,” I begged. “Please, Professor Ballard…”

He slapped my thigh. “Get on your hands and knees, Emily,” he ordered.  I complied instantly, letting go of the slats, turning around so my ass was facing Jake. He leaned back, watched me.

“Lower your head and shoulders on the pillow,” he said. I sank into the pillow, pushing my ass even higher in the air.

“Nice,” he said appreciatively. “Do you know how wet you are, Emily?” he continued, huskily. “You are soaking wet. Does this turn you on, my fingers in your ass? Does it turn you on to know that I’m going to take you there? Push my cock into that ass, make you beg me to go harder?”

Every muscle in my body clenched from his words; every nerve ending came aflame. “Yes, Professor Ballard,” I admitted, face fiery, glad that my face was buried in a pillow, hidden from his sight.

“Move your hands back,” he ordered. “Part those cheeks. Show me your pretty little asshole.”

I groaned. Lust and shame swirled together as I obeyed, and my pussy gushed at the thought of what he was making me do.

“Such a good girl, Emily,” he said as I parted my ass cheeks; exposed myself to his gaze. “Here’s what you are going to do next,” he ordered. “Put both your thumbs in your ass.”

I stiffened. Surely he wasn’t going to make me do this.

“Do it now, Emily.” His voice had hardened. I whimpered, but complied.

I felt opened, exposed, completely without defences as I hooked my thumbs in my asshole, and opened myself before his gaze. As I opened myself, I could feel his fingers dance with mine; he added some more lube to my anal passage as I held myself open for him. I groaned in sheer lust; the illicit shame of what I was doing forgotten in the wake of overwhelming arousal and fevered need. Then I felt his hands clamp on my thighs, and his mouth was tracing a circle over my asshole, lavishing both the asshole and the thumbs holding it open with attention, flicking in me in a way that had me creaming and moaning and thrusting into him.

Again and again his tongue stroked my bud, and it felt like sin. The sweetest kind of sin.

I could hear a condom wrapper tear, and then he moved close to me. His hands touched my ass, stroked my cheeks and spanked them; his lips reached forward and kissed me where his hands had struck. Aching pleasure bloomed all over me. He moved his hands, hooked his fingers over my thumbs, eased them out of my ass. He held my hands in the shelter of his palms as he moved forward into me, positioned the head of his cock at my clenching opening. I stiffened up involuntarily.

Smack. A firm stroke on my backside. “Relax, Emily,” was his swift rebuke. Then his voice gentled. “I’m just going to stay here, Emily. You decide when you are ready to push back into me, okay?” He freed one hand from mine, wrapped it around my hip and touched my clitoris with the softest of touches; the gentlest of rubs.

I groaned, as a haze filled my mind. His touch was feather-light, he was refusing to stroke me hard, set up any kind of rhythm. For that, I would have to push back into his body, let his cock plunder my ass.

I wanted this. I knew I did, and he knew it too; my pussy had never been wetter. Perhaps it was the prospect of pain; perhaps it was because him taking me this way, with me on my knees, face buried in the bed was the most dominant of positions; but I was dangerously ready to push back into him.

His fingers stroked my clitoris slightly harder, and that was all it took. I pushed back, wincing at the sudden pain as my ass yielded to the head of his cock, and it was stretching me; stretching me painfully, and then his head was inside me.

“Good girl,” he said quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. This had to be difficult for him, but he didn’t push the rest of his length into me, he waited till I was ready; till I pushed back again into him, and with a feeling of complete fullness, he was buried all the way in my behind.

His fingers set a rhythm now on my clitoris, my reward for taking his length in me. “Do you want to come?” he asked me.

“Yes, Professor Ballard,” I begged. I needed his fingers to take me to orgasm.

“Start moving against me when you are ready,” he ordered, but despite
the order, he was being kind, waiting for me to be comfortable before he started thrusting in me.

My hand gripped his
as I rocked my hips, caused his cock to move in me. Heat was trickling through my body, and not just because of his fingers on my clitoris. No, the widening of my anal passage, the yielding of my muscles to his cock, these were all sending tremors of lust through my body. I could feel him slide in me, thick and hard; I could feel him leave my ass entirely, only to thrust back inside, imposing his will on my tight asshole, and finally, he took control and set the pace.

I moaned and writhed in response and thrust back into him, willing and ready and needing to feel possessed by him with a complicated, inexplicable need. His pace picked up, he was slamming into me now, and I was slamming back against him, and his fingers moved faster and harder on my clitoris, until I came, long and hard, almost blacking out from the sheer pleasure of it.

My muscles were spent; I slumped my back, but he was not having any of that. A hard smack on my ass reminded me to raise my ass again, and I corrected myself instantly. I wanted to be good for him; I wanted to give him pleasure.

“I’m not going to last much longer, Emily,” he ground into me. He moved, long, steady strokes, thrusting in me with
purpose, and then he groaned as I felt him spasm in me, and we collapsed on the bed together.

“Wow,” I muttered.

I could hear his grin in his voice as he corrected me. “That’s wow, Professor Ballard, Em
ily,” he drawled. “Get it right.”

I giggled; I couldn’t help myself, and then we were both laughing.

***

It was late; when he got up to dispose of the condom, I rolled over on his bed and looked at the time. 3 am.

It had been a crazy roller-coaster of a day; defending my thesis in the morning seemed so far away in the light of everything that had happened since. Going down on my knees in his office. Sucking him off on his patio, naked as the day I was born. Thrusting my pussy into his face as he licked me to orgasm. Being spanked by him. Finally, begging him to take my anal virginity, and exploding with pleasure when he claimed me.

I winced a little. Now that the high from the sex had subsided, I was wondering what had come over me. I didn’t do things like this; I walked the straight and narrow path, and any other desires I had were held safely in the memory of my Kindle.

He’d come back out of the bathroom, he had my clothes in his hand. He must have retrieved them from the patio. He was still naked. I could feel him watching me. “Regret?” he asked.

I made a face. “I feel like a bit of a slut,” I confessed. I had no idea why I was
telling him this.

He shook his head at me, but his expression had softened slightly. “Don’t,” he said. “We are two consenting adults; we both had fun. There’s no need to put any labels on it.”

“I guess,” I replied. I needed time to process what I’d learned about myself today; I needed to reconcile who I thought I was with this new facet of my personality. I’d always known I liked to be spanked, but today had been more than that; today, I had felt a deep need within me to give him pleasure; I had craved his control over me. I had always been turned on reading about dominance and submission, but I’d always kept it in the fantasy realm; never thinking that I could experience powerful arousal at the act of ceding control.

“I’ve got to go,” I muttered.

He eyed me speculatively, but whatever he thought about my response, he kept to himself. “I’ll drive you home,” he said, coming into the room to grab his clothes.

“That isn’t necessary,” I demurred.

“Yes, it is.” His voice was hard. “Get dressed, I’ll meet you downstairs.”

***

Magic 8-ball,
I whispered to myself, when I was safely back in my apartment, lying in bed, tucked under my comforter.
Should I ever do something like that again?

Though my thoughts were still a jumble, the reply was clear.

As I see it, yes.