2 — PRIVATE TUTORING (II)

EMMA

I walked down the hallway the next afternoon with my heart beating fast in my chest. My simple dress felt soft against my skin, but under it I wore nothing at all. No bra. No panties. Just bare skin and the secret that made me wet already. Every step made the dress brush against my thighs and my bottom. I kept thinking about yesterday, about how he bent me over his desk and filled me so hard. My face felt hot just remembering.

I stopped outside his office door. My hand shook a little when I knocked.

“Come in.”

His deep voice made my stomach twist. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Marcus sat behind his big desk, looking at papers. He looked up. His eyes moved over my dress, slow and careful, like he could already tell what I was not wearing.

“Close it,” he said.

I shut the door. He stood up, walked over, and locked it with a soft click. The sound made my breath catch. He turned back to me and looked me up and down again.

“Turn around,” he said.

I turned slowly. The dress swished around my legs. I felt his eyes on my back, on my bottom.

“Lift it,” he ordered.

My fingers grabbed the hem. I pulled the dress up until it bunched around my waist. Cool air hit my bare skin. I heard him make a low sound in his throat.

“Nothing underneath,” he said. “Good girl. Come here.”

He sat down in his big chair and patted his thigh. My legs felt weak as I walked to him. He pulled me across his lap so my stomach pressed against his hard legs and my bare bottom stuck up in the air. My face burned. I could feel how wet I already was, the slickness on my inner thighs.

His hand rested on my bottom, warm and heavy. “You came back,” he said, voice low. “Even after I fucked you like that yesterday. Do you know what that tells me, Emma?”

“What?” I whispered.

“That you need this. That your little pussy gets wet just thinking about what I’ll do to you.” His hand lifted and came down hard.

The first spank landed with a sharp smack. Heat bloomed across my skin. I gasped.

“Count them,” he said.

“One,” I managed.

His hand came down again, harder, right on the other side. The sting made my eyes water.

“Two.”

He spanked me steady and measured, never too fast, never too soft. Each smack made my bottom bounce and burn. The heat spread deeper. I felt myself getting wetter against his thigh. My hips tried to move, but he held me firm with one arm across my back.

“Does it hurt?” he asked between spanks.

“Yes,” I cried out. “But… it feels good too.”

“Of course it does. You’re dripping on my leg already.” He spanked lower, closer to where I needed him most. “Tell me why you came here with nothing under that pretty dress.”

“Because I wanted you to touch me,” I gasped as another spank landed. “I wanted to feel your hands. Please, Marcus—”

“Professor,” he corrected, and spanked me harder. “Until I say otherwise.”

“Professor,” I corrected quickly. My voice shook. The burning on my bottom mixed with the ache between my legs until I could barely think. He kept going until my skin felt hot and tender and I was squirming on his lap, soft sounds leaving my mouth with every hit.

Finally he stopped. His palm rested on the warm, sore skin. I felt him stroke me gently, almost kind, and that made me tremble more than the spanks.

“Look at this red ass,” he murmured. “So pretty. And so wet.” His fingers slid down between my legs and found my folds. I moaned when he touched me there. I was soaked. He pushed two fingers inside me without warning, slow and deep.

“Oh God—”

“Quiet,” he said, but his voice was rough now. He worked his fingers in and out, curling them just right. The wet sounds filled the quiet office. My hips pushed back against his hand. He added a third finger and stretched me open while his thumb pressed against my clit.

“You’re going to cum for me like this,” he said. “Bent over my lap with your red ass in the air and my fingers buried in your tight little cunt. Say it.”

“I’m going to come for you,” I whimpered. The pressure built fast. My whole body tightened. “Please don’t stop. Please—”

He rubbed my clit harder and pumped his fingers faster. The pleasure crashed over me all at once. I shook hard on his lap, moaning into the side of the chair, my walls squeezing around his fingers as the orgasm ripped through me. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. It felt so strong I could barely breathe.

He kept moving his fingers through it until I went soft and trembling. Then he pulled them out and brought them to my lips.

“Clean them.”

I opened my mouth and licked his fingers, tasting myself. He watched me the whole time, eyes dark.

“On your knees,” he said.

I slid off his lap onto the floor between his spread legs. My bottom still burned. My legs felt shaky. He leaned back in the chair and opened his pants. His thick cock sprang free, hard and heavy. The head looked shiny already.

“You know what to do,” he said.

I wrapped my hand around the base and leaned forward. I licked the tip first, tasting the salty drop there. Then I took him into my mouth. He was big. My lips stretched around him. I bobbed my head slowly, taking more each time.

“Deeper,” he ordered. His hand came to the back of my head. “I want to feel your throat.”

I tried. He pushed gently but firmly, and the head of his cock pressed past the soft place at the back of my mouth. I gagged. Tears sprang to my eyes right away. He held me there for a second, then let me pull back for air.

“Again,” he said. “You can take it.”

I opened wider and let him guide me down. He fucked my mouth in slow, deep strokes. Each time he pushed into my throat I gagged around him, spit running down my chin. Tears streaked my cheeks. The wet, messy sounds filled the room. My eyes watered so much the room blurred, but I kept going because the way he looked at me made my stomach flip with need.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Look at you. Crying on my cock. So fucking pretty like this. Swallow when I come. Don’t waste a drop.”

He thrust deeper one last time and held me there. His cock pulsed and hot cum flooded my throat. I swallowed hard, gagging a little, tears still falling. He kept me in place until every bit was gone, then pulled out slowly. A string of spit and come connected my lips to his cock for a second before it broke.

I stayed on my knees, breathing hard, face wet, chin messy. He reached down and tipped my chin up with two fingers so I had to look at him.

“Tomorrow,” he said, voice low and satisfied. “The big lecture hall on the third floor. It will be empty after four. If you’re brave enough to show up, be there. Wear something easy to lift. And Emma—” his thumb brushed a tear from my cheek “—don’t clean up too much before you come. I want to know you’ve been thinking about this all day.”

I nodded, throat sore, body still humming. “I’ll be there.”

He helped me stand. My dress fell back down over my red bottom and bare skin. My legs still felt weak. He unlocked the door and opened it just enough for me to slip out.

As I walked down the quiet hallway, every step reminded me of the sting on my bottom and the taste of him still on my tongue. My heart beat fast with fear and want mixed together so tight I could hardly tell them apart. Tomorrow felt both too far away and much too close.