Wicked Lessons

by Siggy Shade

“You’re taking it like a good girl,” he muses. “Yes, a wonderful little pain slut.” The pulse behind my clit throbs in unison with the mounting panic, and my greedy pussy hungers for more. A strange part of me enjoys the terror.

He pauses. “Red, amber, or green?” I’m panting so hard I can’t form the words. My hips jerk up and down, trying to graze something, anything, to get some friction against my swollen clit. Professor Segul inches away because the black-hearted bastard wants to leave me humping the air.

“I’m glad to provide you with such scintillating entertainment,” I snarl. “Have you satisfied your dark passenger? Mine wants you to eat my pussy.” Slap. The palm strike on my inner thigh sends reverberations traveling down to my wet pussy. My face goes perfectly still. I’ll be damned if I admit that I found it hot. “Fascinating.” He runs the wheel up to the other side of my areola and back down.

Professor Segul moves the wheel to my other breast and then presses a soft kiss on the tortured nipple. “You have beautiful breasts.” His hot breath grazes my skin through the lace.

I was horny this morning. Horny when I dressed up like a female flasher. Horny when I traveled on the bus with only a raincoat to cover my shame. I thought that by now he would have fucked me over the dining table, but we still haven’t even gotten started.

“One should never presume,” he says. “Unless you enunciate precisely what you need.” “Fuck me,” I say from between clenched teeth. He picks up the Swiss Army knife-looking device and pulls out a corkscrew. My eyes widen. “What are you doing?” “Are you thirsty, Miss Stahl?” “No,” I snap. “You already gave me plenty to drink.”

His deep chuckle makes my skin tighten. Why is he thinking about wine at a time like this? Professor Segul trails the fingers of one hand down my ribcage, making me lean into his touch. At last, something that isn’t a slap. As his hand reaches the waistband of my knickers, my hips rise with expectation. “Take them off.” I whisper. “Cut them if you must.” “And ruin a perfectly good set of underwear?” he asks with a frown. “I don’t care.” The professor tuts. “I must teach you not to be wasteful.” A growl of frustration resounds in my throat. He runs his fingers over my knickers, and the flesh beneath the lace fabric warms at his touch. When he pushes it to one side and exposes my pussy, I suck in a deep breath.

“You’re beautiful.” His thumb slides over my clit, which by now feels like a raw nerve. The compliment skips over my ego. I open my mouth, a scream lodging in the back of my throat. This is it. He’s going to bury his face between my spread thighs and pleasure me with his tongue. Or his thumb. At this point, I’m beyond caring as long as I get s...

The professor rises from the bench in front of the gyno chair, leaving me lying there with my legs splayed out obscenely. My clit is so swollen and raw with neglect that it rubs against the lace of my knickers. I glare at his broad back, my hips jerking up and down to create a little friction. It might have worked if I wasn’t so sopping wet. The muscles of my pussy pulse in complaint, wanting to be filled. I throw my head back and swallow down a groan. Any other guy would have fucked me by now, but this one just wants to see me suffer.

Even as I shake my head, my mind already forms the image of Professor Segul with his head buried between my legs, eating my pussy until I squirt.

I don’t care, as long as I get my orgasm.