SEVEN: First Lesson In Patience

"I understand," I tell him firmly. "And I agree."

"The last thing I want to do is cause you pain without causing you any pleasure."

I take a step forward.

"I understand," I repeat, slower this time.

He takes a breath.

"Well then," he mutters. "Let's begin."

Before I can blink, his arms are wrapped tightly around me, spinning me around roughly and shoving my front onto the desk, my ass high in the air. I grunt as my cheek smacks the desk, imagining him smirking from behind me. He is flush against me, running one hand up and down my thigh and holding me in place by the back of my neck with the other.

He hums at the sight of me, fingers toying with the hem of my dress.

"Always dressing like you're ready to get fucked," he mutters, hand dipping under the skirt to palm my ass. My breath hitches in anticipation.

He grips my right ass cheek firmly, his other hand still forcing my face flat and squished against his desk.

I think I need to make sure you know what I expect of you." he hums nonchalantly, hand rubbing down my ass to my thigh and back up.

His touch is rough and wanting, and it leaves my pussy absolutely clenched as I whine under the weight of his hands.

And then all at once, his touch is rapid and sudden. He yanks down my panties. "If you need me to stop, say so," is his only warning before his palm comes down on my ass.

The loudness of the noise the smack has made is... concerning. It fills the room, and I grunt, the impact of the smack causing me to jolt forward. I moan as he rubs the skin where he'd hit me before spanking me again.

"Does that hurt?" he asks me.

"A little."

SMACK.

This time, I cry out, a surprised yelp collapsing from my lips. I breathe heavily after the impact, the skin of my ass cheek stinging and buzzing with tingles.

"Fuck!" I breathe, chest heaving. Out of my peripheral, I watch him shake out his hand. It seems that one is enough to make his skin sting, too.

I can hear his breathing, heavy and laboured. I can feel him watching me, too; I don't need to see them to know that he is absolutely ravishing me with his eyes.

This time, his hand comes from underneath, smacking my pussy, making me jolt and cry out, wriggling beneath him. My cunt buzzes and throbs, aching for more.

"You’re so wet, you naughty girl,” he breathes from behind me, fingers teasing my folds for a fleeting moment.

He moves to my left ass cheek now, smacking it just as red and raw as the right, each spank gaining intensity and force.

Fuck, it hurts, but it is good, good enough to send shockwaves through my spine and lightning bolts from my burning skin straight into my blood. I eagerly push myself onto him, rubbing my ass against his crotch and rolling my hips. The material of his pants stings the raw, worn skin where I'd been struck.

He groans, reaching forward to cup my throat, jerking my head upwards so his lips are against my ear.

"You eager little slut," he growls.

In any other context, the word would have ignited me with anger. In this context, it practically makes my pussy drip with want.

"You need to learn how to be patient." He squeezes my throat, and I cough and sputter at the tension. "I want to fuck you right now," he hisses. "It's difficult to stop myself. But I know how much better it will be if I wait."

And yet he still manages to push himself off of me, placing a hand on my shoulder and pushing me to my knees. They scrape against the carpet and I hiss at the sensation.

One hand seizes the back of my head, fingers fisting my hair. The other moves to expertly unbuckle his belt on its own. Impressive. My eyes flicker up to meet his. He stares down at me, gaze so unbelievably shadowy that it makes me shudder.

I place my hands on the sides of his thighs as he pulls his length free, giving it a few slow, languid strokes. It is so close to my face, and seeing it up close makes me realize how impressive the size of it is. I swallow thickly, my mouth already wetting, and I squirm in my seat, praying for some friction against my centre.

Gripping the base of his cock, glistening with pre-cum already, he directs the tip in front of my lips.

"You know what I want," he orders.

The instructions are unspoken and yet abundantly clear.

Slowly, and with my eyes never leaving his, I raise my hand, and my grip replaces his. I begin slowly, licking up his shaft at a glacial pace. I hear him inhale, knowing he is feeling the beginnings of pleasure. I swirl my tongue around the tip a few times.

And then, suddenly and all at once, I swallow down his length, my lips making it to my own grip, knowing if I take him any deeper, I'd choke.

I hear him groan, and the noise shoots straight to my cunt. I moan around Harlan's cock, the very noises he makes from above me causing me to lose myself in my own little world of pleasure.

I begin bobbing my head, hollowing my cheeks and keeping my wet lips tight around his width. I pump with my hand as I do so, finding a steady rhythm, slow at first, and then faster, faster, faster.

"No hands," he orders suddenly.

My eyes that had fluttered shut look back up at him now with momentary confusion, before he rips my hand away. I continue sucking him off, and he begins pushing me deeper. I whimper around his length as I feel him open the back of my throat. I allow myself to get used to the sensation, and the deeper I take him, the more he hisses and groans.

"Fuck, that's good," he pants breathlessly. "Just like that. Just like that."

My hands placed in my lap, I take to bringing my fingers to trail at the hem of my skirt before dipping beneath to touch myself. He looks so good, sounds so good, tastes so fucking unbelievable, I can't stop myself. The sensation of him filling my mouth is enough to make me quiver. I guess I'd be able to come undone in a matter of seconds.

I rub a few slow circles around my clit and moan in response.

"You don’t have my permission to touch yourself," he growls suddenly.

I whimper again, and he grips my head harder. Before, I was in the lead, bobbing my head to take in his cock. Now, he begins thrusting, grunting with each sharp motion, forcing himself in deeper, fucking my mouth.

I cry out, or do so as best I can with my mouth flooded with his outrageous member. He fucks my face forcefully, hips jutting. The movement is too fast and erratic to keep up with. I focus on my tongue instead, and keeping my lips tight as he takes control. I notice that when my tongue grazes and presses the lower part of his shaft, it drives him wild.

"Fuck!" he thunders, his movements becoming less restrained.

His grip on my hair is tight, tight enough to make my scalp burn with white-hot pain. But all I can think about is his pulsing cock inside my mouth.

My hands grip the sides of my skirt. I want to touch myself, touch him, want to feel warm skin under my fingers, want, need to feel pressure, friction, release.

I moan more, unable to keep the sounds from escaping. The noises vibrate around his cock and with a twitch of his agonizingly hard cock, I know he is coming close.

"I'm gonna cum, Eden. I'm gonna cum all fucking over you. Keep taking my cock. Fuck yeah, choke on it, that's right."

He hits the back of my throat and I can't hold back a sputtering gag. I gasp dramatically as he pulls himself out of me at the very last second before reaching his release. With a final groan, he splashes my face with ropes of his cum. I feel each string of liquid land on my skin, warming me but making me shiver all the same.

We're both panting and gasping as Harlan comes down from his high. He stands on shaking legs, still holding my face in his hands. He moves a strand of hair from my damp brow, his fingers undoubtedly trailing in his own seed as he does so. I'm grateful for the gesture.

After a moment of both of us collecting our breath, he seizes my elbows and pulls me to my feet before stuffing himself back in his pants and re-buckling his belt. He cups my face in his hands. Moving my face slightly from side to side, he examines me, examines my beauty, my magnificence that is covered in his cum.

He smirks, dragging a thumb through the mess on my face. I realize now I'm the one trembling. I clutch onto his shirt for strength, support, nearly losing my balance when I watch him smirk down at me.

Pride, that is what his expression wears. I've done well; I can see it in his eyes.

After a few fleeting moments of admiration, he turns away to retrieve some Kleenex from his desk. He reaches over to hand them to me before sighing, back facing me.

I wipe myself clean, watching him, still panting. He stands stoically for a few moments before tilting his head over his shoulder to address me.

"You'll email me your contact information. Each and every way to reach you," he instructs.

I nod.

"Yes, professor," I agree in a whisper, dabbing and wiping his seed from my cheeks and forehead and jaw.

"I'll be in touch regarding our next visit."

"But, sir," I argue, taking a step forward.

I'm not done with him yet. My centre still aches. My dress is agonizingly warm. I feel painfully un-fucked and desperate.

Turning around as he feels my fingers touch his back, he smirks, looking down at me. "Think of this as your first lesson in patience."

I wonder, in the darkest part of my mind, what Harlan has planned for me...