by Madison Skye
It was so different for me, being the one who had no say, who was willing to throw my dignity away and beg for the release my body was craving.
“You are learning, aren’t you? Yes, I’ll put you over my knee and spank you until you’re begging me to stop. Might sound exciting at first, but it’ll quickly grow old. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be crying and begging me to stop. Your body will crave me, and I may or may not let you have what you want most. If you’re naughty enough, you’ll be sent home for a cold shower instead of getting filled with my cock. Got it?”
“Yes sir.”
He didn’t even warn me. One second his hand was resting lightly on my ass, the next he was gripping my hips and slamming his cock in me to the hilt. I went from completely empty to stuffed full of cock in five seconds flat. He was almost too much for me, and when he bottomed out inside me, I cried out in pain, surprise, and the most delicious satisfaction I’d ever felt in my life.
My mind was in a million places at once. I still couldn’t believe that this was really happening to me. For years, I’d wanted to be fucked by a sexy, older man, and it was finally happening. Nothing went according to plan. He bested me, had taken control of the situation. He held the reins so tightly, there was no hope for me to regain control. At that point, I didn’t want to.
Maybe being bested by an older man was part of the experience of having them. It sure had been exciting. The hottest experience of my life.
His cock was so slick inside me. Bare, no protection. In that moment, I’d never been so thankful for birth control. I’d never had a bare cock before, and the silky smoothness of skin instead of artificial rubber was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I hadn’t known that each thrust could feel so intense, that the head of a cock could perfectly brush against a gspot, time and time again.
I felt so full. I’d never taken a cock so thick, and it pressed against every side of my pussy. I never wanted it to end, this sweet and quickly blooming heat inside me. Each thrust brought me closer to my orgasm. I could feel it building inside me, growing stronger by the minute. Each stroke seemed to light up more nerve cells inside me, parts of me I didn’t even know were sexual.
His hand wrapped around my hair, tugging at the base of my neck. It hurt and felt good at the same time, like the pain in one area of my body accentuated the pleasure in another part entirely. Every time he thrusted inside me, there was a delicious tug of pain where he had his fist balled into my hair. And every time this pain blossomed in me, little jolts were sent through my body and my pussy would throb and convulse around his cock.
I’d never felt anything more satisfying in my life. My hips pushed back against him, bucking and thrashing without my consent. Sometimes I’d fuck him back, enjoying the little thrill of power I got. Then he’d bend me back over, press my breasts against his desk, pin me and fuck me even harder than before. His message wasn’t hard to interpret.
I was his.
He was in control.
There was nothing I could do about it.
“You like that, don’t you Everly? Like the feeling of my cock filling you, slamming into you with all I’ve got?”
“Yessss,” I moaned, throaty, lost in the waves of sensation.
“That’s right you naughty girl, you do like it. And you like me pulling your hair and putting you in your place. You like being taken from behind by an older man, one who’s calling all the shots. You like when someone else is in control, don’t you?”
I only whimpered. I still didn’t want to admit it.
“Tell me, Everly, or I swear I’ll stop. Tell me you like it when I’m in control.”
Each word was like pulling teeth, but when I was done, I felt so free.
“I - like - it.. I like it when you’re in control.”
“Good girl. You like it so much you’re going to come all over my cock, aren’t you? I can feel how close you are, getting so damn tight on my cock. You’re going to scream for me and cream all over this big cock of mine, aren’t you?”
“Fuck yes, I’m going to come!”
“Yes Everly, that’s it. Give in to me. Come for me baby girl, come for me, all over my cock.”
His words were the switch that sent me spiraling over the edge. My orgasm was so much more than huge waves of pleasure, cresting one after another. It was an out of body experience, a driving force that connected us together. As I convulsed on him, he spurted inside me, roaring with the force of it. I saw stars and then darkness.
If it weren’t for the strength of his arms wrapped around me, I would have fallen.
Daimon
Sex with Everly had been the best fuck of my life. I’d never felt more connected to a woman that I did with her in that moment. I’d thought it was only sex, something naughty and forbidden. A one time thing, something I could hold above her head to keep her in line for the rest of the semester. I thought it was devoid of any emotion, a way to relieve pent up stress and frustration that came with hating the life you’re living.
Somehow, it’d morphed into so much more. I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I hadn’t kissed her, looked into her eyes, whispered sweet nothings. I hadn’t said a single nice thing to the girl the entire time. I’d been rude and on a power high, and I’d loved every second. Even seeing the fear in her eyes had made my arousal stronger. The entire thing was primal and erotic and had led to the strongest orgasm of my life.
But when I’d led her to the door, something was different. I’d always found her beautiful, but seeing her with puffed up lips and frazzled hair and bright pink cheeks made her even more alluring. Knowing that I was the man who’d made her look like that, kissed by sex, drew me to her. I smoothed out her skirt for her, tucked stray strands of hair behind her ear. I’d rubbed a trickle of mascara from her cheek that had smeared there from her eyes tearing up during the blowjob. I’d kept my hand on the small of her back and led her out the door, the bright lights of the school a shock to the pupils.
I’d had an urge to kiss her then, one that I’d shoved down, hard. I knew that wasn’t what our time together had been about. It was sex. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a way to feel good together. Almost like an emotional transaction.
Needed.
Nothing sentimental about it.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel a tightness in my gut and a sad burn start in my chest as I watched her walk away. When she looked back at me, her eyes wide and full of what looked like remorse and confusion, I’d had to fight myself not to chase after her, take her in my arms and assure her that she was more to me than a naughty slut who’d needed to be punished.
But that’s all she was supposed to be.
All that night, all I thought about was her. I wanted more. It was more than just wanting to be inside her again, though my cock for sure craved that. I wanted to see her, just to see if I could make her smile. A real smile, not her naughty one, the one that told me she was planning something.
I wanted to feel her body pressed against mine. I wanted to see what her lips tasted like, wanted to feel her tongue tangling with mine. I wanted to kiss her neck and cup her ass in my hand.
And it wasn’t just a need to physically touch her. I wanted her to sit beside me on the couch and watch a movie. Maybe a horror, maybe a comedy. Hell, even a romance if it’d get her to come sit in my lap. I wanted to make her an elaborate meal, watch her as she ate it, bite by bite. I wanted to listen to her tell me about her day. I wanted to know her hopes and dreams. What had brought her to my class?
By the time morning had rolled around, I knew I’d gotten myself into trouble. I called in sick and pulled some strings. No more physical classes for me. Not that semester. I switched everything to online teaching, all to avoid a teenage girl. I knew if I saw her, my defenses would crumble. I’d played the part of bad boy professor, but deep down, I was broken. I craved companionship but hadn’t found anyone I felt suited me.
Until her.
I’d begun falling for one of
my students, without even realizing it.
Distancing myself was the only option I could see. I told myself if I avoided all contact with her, the feelings would go away. Plenty of men must have felt this way before. Complete infatuation after a one night stand couldn’t be all that out of the ordinary. Chemicals and hormones let off in the heat of the moment and all that. Must have been the orgasm that did it, or maybe fucking her bare and raw and close.
Whatever did it, I holed myself up like a hermit in order to fix it. I spent long evenings alone, sitting in the dark. Nothing seemed fun to me anymore. I’d flip through channels on the TV, going through things mindlessly. I tried opening a book every now and then, but my mind couldn’t seem to concentrate for more than a page or two at a time. Reading that slowly, stories seemed fragmented and not worth sinking into. Each book was tossed aside and forgotten.
Daytime was a bit better, or at least less torture for me. I kept busy teaching four classes, and I kept up my workouts in the tiny home gym I’d set up. I ran errands in town, trying not to shop anywhere near campus. I never ran into her, and getting out of the house for a while helped keep my mind off her. Movies out, time at my favorite bars and eateries, anything really to keep my mind on the present. If I didn’t remain diligent, my thoughts began to wander and I fell into Everly-themed daydreams.
The one time I caught a glimpse of her, I was left a shaking mess for days after. It’d been shortly after classes had let out for the day. I’d ran late picking up the mail from the post office on campus, and was hurrying home to avoid a confrontation with her. But however fast I was, she was quicker. I saw her, first her coffee colored hair and then the shock of her pale skin. She looked eager to see me. Her eyes were all lit up and sparkling. I could see that she was ready to push through the crowd to get to me.
So I ran. Not my proudest moment, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do in the moment.
No matter how hard I avoided her, I couldn’t forget her. Instead, my longing grew stronger every day. I craved her. I was addicted to her. Everly had become my one and only drug, and I needed a hit. Hell, I needed an IV line that ran her straight into my system.
I didn’t want to have her for one night.
I wanted to have her for a lifetime.
Months passed, and still, the feelings didn’t go away. Snow blanketed the ground and turned both the sky and my mood grey. I was a wreck of a man, more of a shell of a person than something alive. Everly had wound herself around my finger and pushed herself into my heart. I spent all my energy trying to keep her out, but it was a battle I was destined to lose.
Sometimes, I even thought about knocking on her door and demanding that she come home with me. Whenever I thought like this, a single thought haunted me:
What if she didn’t want me?
What if she didn’t even remember me?
Everly
A few days after our encounter, my stomach was in knots. I had class with the professor everyday besides Wednesday, but I’d skipped out on his class Thursday. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him. It’s that I wanted to see him so badly, it scared me.
I found myself thinking about him in all my spare pockets of time. I thought of him in the shower, when I woke up in the morning, even when I was eating breakfast at the tiny little table beside my bed. And these feelings and thoughts weren’t isolated to the times I was alone, either. I even thought about him when another man was trying to get my attention or when I ate a meal surrounded by friends. Even when I was invited to a party, I did nothing but stand there, feeling awkward and prickly, wishing that I was anywhere with him instead of surrounded by college students who smelled like beer and weed.
I’d never been so infatuated with a man before, even when I got school girl crushes that would last months at a time. I’d always prided myself on my independence. Not needing a man was something I liked to brag about. I loved being different from other girls, all of whom had steady boyfriends. It’d always seemed like a boring life to me, being tied down. But ever since being nailed by my professor, the idea of it seemed nice.
So I tried to stay away, even though every nerve in my body was screaming at me to do otherwise. I knew he lived on campus somewhere. I wanted, so many times, to knock on his door and melt into his arms. I wanted to be weak like that, just one time. I was so sick of pretending to be strong when all I wanted was a strong pair of arms to wrap around me, pull me close, and watch a movie with me.
Sometimes, I almost did it. I’d pull up the campus directory and start scrolling, but after a minute or two I’d stop myself. Every time I thought about surprising him, I thought of the look of anger and disdain he’d probably get when seeing me. Just because I was infatuated with him, didn’t mean he reciprocated the feelings. I knew that he probably never thought about me, except with some macho satisfaction at a girl well fucked. But this knowledge was a tiny voice in the back of my head. I didn’t want to bring reality front and center by having him turn me away at his door.
But I knew that I had to risk some form of rejection. I was a big girl now, and I couldn’t run and hide from my problems. I had to go to class, however scary it seemed. That morning, I spent ages getting ready. I didn’t know what kind of clothes to wear. Did he really not want me to dress naughtily? Or was it all a ruse? It was hard to tell if the spanking he gave me had truly been one of punishment or if I’d turned him on so much, he hadn’t been able to help himself from asserting dominance over me.
In the end, I went with a simple pair of jean shorts with designed pockets. They were short and showed off the long curve of my leg, but they weren’t meant to be sexy. Just nice and cool enough to save me from the blinding rays of the sun. For a shirt I wore a camo colored tank top with a racer back bra. The outfit was cute and casual paired with a high ponytail. It was enough to make me feel good about myself, still confident without being overly promiscuous.
I walked to class, clutching my books to my chest. I knew I’d have to talk to him, ask what I’d missed the other day while I’d been hiding away in my room. I’d already thought of a million excuses, not one of them convincing. I was trembling when I stepped into the room with only a minute to spare. Imagine my surprise when I saw it wasn’t him teaching, but a stern older woman with a hooked nose and glasses on a golden chain.
At first I thought it was a fluke. I thought he was sick, or was questioning the morality of his actions. Even when an entire week crept by, I couldn’t force myself to believe that he was gone. Not until I searched through the college faculty online and found him. I learned that his name was Daimon, a strong and handsome name for a strong and handsome man. He still worked at the college, but had dropped all physical classes in favor of online courses.
He’d taught me a lesson and then abandoned me. Thinking of it made my skin feel hot and my heart race. I’d been burned, used up and tossed to the side in a matter of days. Our games had meant nothing to him. I knew, somewhere, in the quiet rational part of my mind, that this was as it should be. Our one morning of passion was supposed to be just that - one morning. But I’d fallen for him without meaning to, and I wanted so much more than one day with him.
He’d taught me my lesson and it left a bitter, acidic taste on my tongue. Whenever I thought about him, I felt sick. I wanted him so bad, but at the same time was furious with him. I was convinced he’d skipped out on classes that semester, just to avoid me. He knew I’d get clingy, want more from our relationship than just a one time fling.
So he ran.
It should have made me hate him. Sometimes, I thought I did. I’d see his face in my mind and feel fury. I wanted to punch walls, throw things off tables, just to hear the tinkle of glass as they crashed to the floor. I wanted to blast music and scream along with every word. Really, I wanted to have one big temper tantrum over a man I’d only known for a few days. One who I was never supposed to have been involved with.
It was crazy, and I knew it.
I felt like a high
school kid again. My feelings for him were so intense, they left me feeling shaky and confused. It took me far too long to realize that I was in love with him. Strangely enough, only a feeling as strong as love could make me feel rage at the levels I did, for weeks and even months on end. Even as the semester started drawing to a close, I still felt that irresistible pull to have a mental break down, like I wanted everyone else to know my anguish.
I was tired of suffering alone and in the dark.
Snow fell and the world around me turned cold. Getting to classes took longer, having to shuffle through feet of snow every morning. I had no reliable vehicle, and my winter coat was a little threadbare. Normally I would’ve went shopping by then, bought gloves and hats. College was far from home and the weather differences were like night and day. I was used to a dusting of snow and an occasional blustery wind. Here, there was a foot of snow before Thanksgiving and the cold was biting enough to seep into the marrow of my bones.
With the frigid temperatures came more time inside. It should have been easier to complete my coursework, but I found it increasingly hard to concentrate on anything. Cold bred isolation and without the company of my friends, I lay around for hours, thinking about Daimon. I should have been wrapped in a cozy quilt, watching a trashy reality show and sipping down gallons of hot, sugary coffee.
Instead, I sat pining over a man who I was sure hated the fact that I even existed.
I went into a depressive funk that nothing could bring me out of. The amount of calls and texts I got from men trying to get into my panties was ridiculous. I wasn’t myself anymore and ignored each and every one. I had no desire to sleep with anyone. I hadn’t since that morning with Daimon. I no longer craved it like I had. The very idea of sex turned me off.
Unless it was with him. Then it got me hot and sweaty in seconds, ready to go. I only wanted him. After feeling his body, I knew no one else would measure up. No one would make me feel as good as him.