Yes, Sir

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I loved his long, dark hair. I thought about it while I was in the shower, how it would feel to run my fingers through it and pull. Then I thought about how he pushed it back when he really got into his lecture, as if his hair falling into his face would somehow block the point he was trying to make from his students. I thought about the bulge in his pants that would appear every now and then. What I would give to have him pushing into me… My back started to arch as I leaned against the wall with the shower head aimed at my clit and my fingers moving in and out of my cunt rhythmically. I imagined him pushing me against the wall and holding my throat as I hit my spot over and over. A loud, low moan escaped my lips as I felt my muscles contract and my knees start to shake. I used my cum to rub my clit and make the orgasm last as long as possible.

When I finished, I smiled at myself. I had a habit of fantasizing about him, when I had so many men at my disposal. I was more interested in imaging his long hair tickling my inner thighs than I was any other man going leaps and bounds to get in my pants. I just knew it would probably never happen. After all, he was William Harold, my 38-years-old English professor, the university’s resident bad boy, and he was no man to waste his precious time on students. But I could hope, couldn’t I?

It was my third semester taking one of his classes. After the first semester, I made sure to pick his courses specifically, whatever they were, just so I could listen to him talk in his deep, commanding voice. The power and cynicism behind it silenced the whole room and had actually given him the reputation of a professor that you don’t fuck with. It turned me on. Whenever he said my name, I felt my pussy get warm. I would even raise my hand frequently to hear him say my name over and over. By the time I left his classes, I would be so wet that I would go to the bathroom and touch myself until I came, imagining it was his tongue. I wished he would fuck me and pull my hair. I wished he would dominate me. I needed him to dominate me.

In Spring, at the end of the current semester, I saw him before class smoking a cigarette by himself in the parking lot. I watched the way his lips hugged the filter, and felt warmth between my legs and almost regretted not wearing any panties that day. I ran to the bathroom and tightened the straps on my garter belt and straightened my thigh-highs. The semester was ending soon, and I wanted him to notice me, wanted him to remember exactly what I was wearing when I returned in the fall. I checked that the short black dress that I was wearing didn’t show anything but that it was tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination. It was even thin enough that in some areas where it was stretched you could see my tattoos.

He sounded bored calling out names for people to approach him to pick up their latest graded paper. I knew my name was coming up, and I squirmed in my seat, anxious to have him see me.

“Gray Johnson” finally came from his mouth and I struggled to hide the fact that I had stood and began to move toward him so eagerly. I played with the hem of my dress nervously as I got to his desk.

“Good work, Johnson,” he said nonchalantly. He didn’t even look up. My heart fell. “Stay behind after class.”

I felt my face turn red, humiliated, and couldn’t shake my embarrassment the rest of the class. I couldn’t even hear what he was saying or what was going on around me.

In hoards, students fled the classroom as quickly as possible to escape the one class they were afraid to talk or text in. Finally, there was only me. I clumsily picked up my notebook and pens and tried to stuff them into my bag without dropping anything. From way in the front of the room, I heard him call me over.

“Gray, come here. I’d like to talk to you about your paper.” His voice was commanding again. He had said my first name, which has never happened. I glanced up and saw him push his hair back with a free hand.

I approached him and, despite my humiliation, couldn’t help but to admire his surprisingly chiseled face. The stubble he sported was gone today. With one swift movement, he undid his top shirt button and exhaled deeply, then moved a chair close to his desk and motioned me to sit down.

“I’d like to talk about your performance in this class. Your progress is remarkable, as expected, and I’ve seen a lot of growth in you.” He stared right at me, his gray eyes fixed on mine, and after a minute, the intensity got to me and I had to look down. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Look at me.” I looked up. He continued, “I am so intrigued by your growth that I would like to start a project with you before summer session starts. You have a lot of potential.” I blushed at his praise and was turned on by the power in his tone. “I would like you to meet me tomorrow after my evening class has ended. It is imperative that you are on time. Do you understand?”

“I understand. Thanks, Mr. kızılay escort Harold.” I nodded enthusiastically, then we stood in unison.

My mind was racing as I left the room. I was excited and confused. He wanted to see me tomorrow evening but hadn’t looked me over when he saw what I was wearing. He had looked at me so hard that I felt like he was reading my mind, which was thrilling yet uncomfortable. At that moment, I just hoped the growth he was talking about was sexual and not academic.

The hours snailed by the next day. I felt like I had been awake for ages, but when I looked at the clock, only two hours had passed since I’d left home. There were hours left to go, but I didn’t know if I had that much patience. I had dressed for the occasion. For hours the night before, I had picked out an outfit that I hoped he could not resist, complete with black sheer lace top thigh highs, a black satin garter belt, a black bra that I paid an arm and a leg for, and an almost-see through shirt that was just long enough to pass as a dress. My silhouette was clearly visible through it. I went to a restroom on campus right before his evening class and stared at myself in the mirror, scrutinizing my appearance. I mean, if he didn’t like me in this, I wasn’t sure what to do.

I chain-smoked in the parking lot for an hour, waiting impatiently and nervously. I reapplied perfume. I paced. I surfed the Internet on my phone. Until finally it was five to six, and I walked toward his office.

The door was cracked open, but I knocked anyway. I heard his deep voice tell me that he was there and to come in, so I entered and closed the door behind me. Without looking up at me-again-he told me to lock it. My eyes widened, but I did as he said. He seemed completely calm and in his element, as if he were in class teaching. I still questioned whether anything weird was happening.

“Sit down, Gray,” was his next command. I obeyed. Doing what he told me to was too easy. I smiled to myself at this thought.

He finished writing whatever he was working on, then set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. Finally, he looked at me. His eyes penetrated mine. They teased me. His gaze worked from my eyes to my neck, and I watched them move toward my chest, at the shadow of my bra beneath my shirt. To get a complete view, he stood up and moved around the desk toward me.

“Stand for me, please.” His voice, though still commanding, took on a quieter feeling, and I felt a tangible danger in the room that sent shivers down my back. I obeyed, standing and allowing the shirt which had been gathered at my hips while sitting to fall flat against my skin.

“Do you usually dress this way to see your professors?” He pushed his hair back and crossed his arms. Standing in front of me, I was able to appreciate how much taller he was than I.

“No.”

His gray eyes became so animated, I swear that his pupils couldn’t decide how big they wanted to be. They burned. A minute passed before he countered, “Tonight, in this room, you are going to call me ‘Sir’. Do you understand?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks as I listened to this statement. “Yes, sir,” I breathed.

“Good. We’re going to talk about a project that I’d like to start with you,” he continued as he returned to his side of the desk and sat down, “immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” My heart was hammering in my chest, and I could feel my pulse echoed in my cunt. The sweet spot between my legs was getting warmer and wetter as I reveled in the sound of him telling me what to say.

Leaning back in his chair again, he crossed his legs and seemed to deliberate for a moment. “This project of ours is going to take a lot of self-will, and you will need to learn to listen to everything I say. Everything.” He met my eyes with a hard stare before continuing with a smile, “If you do so, I hope we will learn to work well together.”

He was being so vague that I almost couldn’t believe what I was certain was happening. Was this everything I had dreamed of, or was I being severely delusional?

“Gray, get me the red hard-cover book on that shelf by the door.”

I slowly but immediately got up and turned my back to him, walking toward the book shelf by the door. What was I doing? Surely, he wasn’t going to read to me. I stood in front the book shelf and searched for a red hard-cover book. Confused, I asked, “What’s it called? I can’t find it.” But he didn’t respond, so I turned and then jumped. He had moved right behind me, quietly watching-waiting-and admitted, “There is no red hard-cover book there.” He took a step closer; my breath caught in my throat and I could feel the slick wetness between my legs. He took another, which positioned him within an inch of my body. I could not move my eyes from his. They smoldered. “Did you want there to be one?”

Words wouldn’t form in my mouth. All I did was part my lips, wishing I could answer. Instead, I just shook my head in a silent “no.”

He kolej escort smirked and lifted his hand slowly. I watched it all the way up to my face, where it lingered in midair. Very carefully, he pressed it against my throat and made it so that my chin was pushed into the air slightly. My eyes were glued to his as he leaned in and whispered into my ear, “I’ve watched you look at me and dress up for me. Wanting my attention. You’ve always had it, but it was so fun to watch you work for it every class. I had hoped you’d end up taking my courses since the first time I saw you, with your red hair and thigh highs. I think about biting your delicate, pale skin. I envision myself ploughing into your pussy from behind while you beg me to keep going. I always wished you would pursue me more aggressively, but then I realized why you didn’t. You’re submissive.” He moved into me and I felt a warm bulge rub press against my pelvis. I exhaled sharply thinking about his cock. His grip on my neck tightened slightly, just loose enough to allow me to breathe freely. Perfectly. “Aren’t you?”

I closed my eyes and took a breath, and then responded as he commanded: “Yes, sir.”

The excitement that flashed in his eyes was undeniable. I felt so wet that I might have been dripping. As if reading my mind, he hiked up my shirt and ran his fingers up my thigh and fingered one of the garter straps, then traveled inward and I felt the heat from his fingertips hovering just atop my hood. The anticipation made me whimper.

“If you continue to be this obedient, you will be rewarded, pet. Is that what you want?” His voice had become husky and lower, as if he were speaking to someone dangerously delicate.

I answered once again, “Yes, sir.” It was a plead. It’s all I wanted.

Once again, he smirked. When he suddenly let go of me and stepped back, I felt my heart drop. It must have shown on my face, for he almost immediately soothed me by cooing, “We’re not finished. I want you to return to my desk and undress yourself. Place your clothes on the chair.” When I began to move he urgently added, “But keep on your stockings and garter belt.

Pride filled my heart, realizing I had succeeded in donning articles of clothing that he liked. But once I reached the desk, I realized that though I had fantasized about being William Harold’s submissive for over a year, I was nervous to undress in front of him. I debated hesitating to disrobe but remembered that he said I must obey everything he asked of me. So I slipped off boots and shirt-dress and stood there, quite humiliated but highly turned on. His eyes took me in hungrily, savagely. I felt like the Mona Lisa, so desirable that the most important sought to take in my image. Slowly, William moved toward me. I shivered from anticipation. He couldn’t move fast enough. When he was finally one step away from me, he pushed his hair out of his face again and stopped.

He deliberated another moment. “I want you to turn around to face the desk.” I obeyed, and in a second I felt his warm hands hit my hips and he gripped them and pulled me into him. My eyes closed in ecstasy. I had never felt anything so divine nor so dangerous. His hand trailed across the waist of my garter belt and then smoothly, softly moved downward. Once again I felt the heat of his fingers almost touching my throbbing slit. I whimpered so pathetically that I heard him let out one low chuckle. “Am I being mean?”

Scared to say yes and not be touched, I said, “No, sir.”

“Good answer, pet,” he whispered into my ear. “I, personally, think I’m being quite generous, don’t you?”

Barely able to concentrate on anything other than the fact that his hand was hovering above my clit, I let out a vaguely incoherent, “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied with my answers, he simultaneously began to kiss my neck and finally touched my hood, rubbing it gently. I let out an overwhelmingly enthusiastic moan and tilted my head so as to give him better access to my neck, but he stopped.

“Bend over the desk for me, Gray.”

As I did, I heard him unzip his pants. I felt the head of his cock hit my pussy as he pulled it from inside his work pants. It was warm, and I wanted it so badly that I backed up slightly. He clucked his tongue and grabbed a handful of my hair firmly to keep me still. “Not until I say so.”

I tried to breathe evenly while I waited for him to enter me, but failed miserably. I was so excited and aroused that all efforts to regain composure were completely pointless. Finally, suddenly, he inquired, “Do you want me to fuck you, pet?” As soon as the words escaped his mouth, my cunt was aching for him in a way I had never imagined it would for anyone. Not only did I want him to, I needed him to. To his question I simply replied, “Yes, sir.”

His fingers trailing down my spine signaled that he had heard me. He resumed his grip with one hand on my hip and the other very firmly tangled in my hair. His pulsing ankara escort cock rubbed against me and I felt him beginning to push into me. For a moment, he paused.

I tilted my head slightly, alarmed at the abrupt stop. My body language must have been enough of a question for him, because he responded with a command: “Gray, when you come for me-because I know that you will-you are going to moan my name. You are going to call me ‘William’. Do you understand?” His cock teased my pussy.

“Yes, sir.” I was about to lose ability to contain myself if I had to wait any longer. My fantasies were coming true. I wanted him so badly.

Within a millisecond of my reply, he had begun to slowly enter me, then pull out, stretching me, getting used to my cunt, feeling how wet I was for him. I thought of all the times I had wished my fingers would have been his cock, and now it was. I purposely relaxed for him so that he could get as deep inside me as fast as possible. His rhythm was perfect and gradually increasing. I felt the veins and head of his cock inside of me, thrusting deeper. He was building up speed slowly, trying to work with how tight I was, gripping him. After a minute his grunts became more audible and I moaned deeply as he began to thrust harder and faster into my cunt. I desired him to keep accelerating his speed and strength, but didn’t dare make any demands. Those were his to make. As if reading my mind, he warned me, “Do not come until I allow you to.”

The hand he had wrapped in my hair tightened even more, which made my head tilt upward and arched my back so severely that it almost hurt, but it didn’t. It felt so good. He moved his other hand from my hip and started traveling downward, teasing my skin, and then landed on my clit. He started rubbing me gently and then roughly, in circles and then in different patterns, all while fucking me from behind. He was thrusting so deeply that the desk began to move slightly every time he entered me. I felt and heard his pelvis hitting my ass, making a perfect clapping noise that I couldn’t have even imagined. I hoped there would be red marks or bruises on my ass afterward, but I could worry about that later.

The amount of pleasure I started to feel was mounting, almost nearing unbearable. I sensed that he was starting to lose control as his grunts got deeper and louder, almost in unison with the moans escaping my mouth. His sounds were dangerously seductive.

With clenched teeth he commanded me, “This is what you fantasized about for a year, isn’t it? Do you want to come on my cock while I fill you? Tell me you want to fuck me until I come inside you, pet.”

I moaned at his term for me, and pleaded with him. “Yes, sir. This is what I dream about. I want you to fuck me and use me until you come inside me, sir. Please.” I began to breathe heavily and unevenly and felt my orgasm mounting, but tried my best to stop it until I was allowed.

He quickly and eagerly moved his hand from my clit to around my throat and began to choke me lightly, which aroused me so much that I was edging toward the most superior climax I’d ever experienced.

I half whimpered, half cried, desperate enough for him to come inside me that I spoke out of turn, “I love your cock pounding into me. Please come for me, sir!”

At my words, he exploded, and the pressure of his come inside me was so much that my back arched and I began to orgasm, reaching for my own clit and feeling so much pleasure that I truly believed I was losing my mind. I screamed his name and he seemed to come even harder. I felt both of our juices slowly dripping down my leg and he roughly thrusted into me, eventually slowing down as both our orgasms started to subside. My eyes were almost crossed in bliss. I couldn’t believe what was happening. He loosened his grip on my hair and released my neck, and, still standing, I allowed myself to rest my upper body on his desk while I waited for further instruction.

He pulled out of me with a final, satisfied grunt, then slapped my ass. It made my stomach flip to hear his pleasure.

“Stand and face me,” I heard him say, trying to control his voice again.

I stood, knees about to buckle, his and my come dripping down my inner thigh, threatening to reach my thigh highs. I didn’t even care. I’d never cared less, actually.

When I faced him, it looked as thought he were trying to hide a tenderness that was on his face while I was not looking at him. I smirked to myself internally.

“You have done exactly as I asked,” he admitted, impressed. I couldn’t decide which to stare at: his eyes or his dick. They were both attractive, but since he was talking I thought his eyes would be the better location. “Your reward for your obedience will be to come back tomorrow. I’d like to see you again.” His eyes were smiling at me, though he had regained control of his facial expressions. “Outside the office.” I was thrilled at this idea. He motioned for me to sit down as he sat at the corner of the desk closest to me. “Your beauty has captivated me from day one. I hope that we can continue this, Gray.”

I admired the way his mouth moved and smiled when he pushed his hair back from his eyes again. I couldn’t wait to have his hands back in my own hair.

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