Hot for Teacher

by Barrie Abalard

  He’d been erect for what felt like days. He ached to hustle Rosemary off to a private place for spanking and the best sex he could manage. Her dress clung to her every curve, and the color accented little green flecks he’d never noticed before in her blue eyes.

  He reached for her hand, stroking her palm. She gasped, her lips parting.

  He said, “You have read Tom Jones, haven’t you?”

  “The eating scene,” she said. “Oh, yes.”

  He placed her index finger on his mouth. He flicked the tip with his tongue while continuing to stroke her palm lightly with one finger.

  A deep sigh rose from her. She squirmed in her chair. He’d bet his doctorate that she was wet right now.

  Time to talk.

  He placed her hand on the table in front of her, brushing her cheek with his fingers before saying, “Rosemary, I don’t regret what happened between us in my office for one moment. I’m sorry I treated you so callously the next day and that I’ve been distant since. Like a lot of men, I didn’t realize what I had till I lost it. And now that you are no longer my student, we are free to see each other. Will you go out with me?”

  Her expression grew shrewd. “Why, Dr. Kent, I do believe what you mean is, will I fuck you?”

  His cock throbbed when she spoke the word. “Yes, that’s what I mean, but that’s not all of it. I need you in my life. You’re the one I’ve searched for. I’m not ready to propose marriage --”

  “Nor am I ready to accept,” she said.

  “-- but I am ready for a lover in my life. I need to know one thing for sure, however. Are you fond of spanking and dominance games in the bedroom?”

  Rosemary came to him, settling herself on his lap. She pressed her hip against his erection. “I don’t know how fond you are of such things, but I want a man who shares those interests. I need discipline. Sir. Will you discipline me?”

  Her round, full bottom resting on his thighs tempted him, but he restrained himself because of the semi-public setting. He took her chin in his hand, and brought her lips to his. Unlike the day in the office, they kissed chastely.

  “I can barely wait to discipline you,” he breathed in her ear. He licked her earlobe, once, and she shuddered as if she were ready to come.

  “Jonathan, we can skip the food as far as I’m concerned.” She wiggled on his lap. Her smile invited him. He looked down her dress before reluctantly lifting her off his lap. He let his hand linger on her hip while he spoke, emphasizing his control over her. He spoke with an authority that he could feel all the way down to his stiff cock.

  “No. We will have dinner first. Get back in your seat, Rosemary.”

  With that, he selected delicacies for both of them, but used only one plate. He placed it halfway between them, saying, “We’ll feed each other.”

  A discreet knock, then a different waiter entered the room. “Good evening. My name is Maurice. Is there anything you need, sir?”

  “Another ale for each of us, please. And we’ll have the dessert I ordered, in about forty-five minutes.”

  “Very good, sir.” The door closed.

  Jonathan put some mashed potatoes on his fork. “I believe the lady asked for these?”

  She sucked them from the utensil. “Mmm.”

  She forked a bit of smoked salmon for him. “Want to try this?”

  The meal proceeded. Jonathan felt dizzy with lust as they fed each other morsels and drank their ale. In between bites, they reached out to touch each other’s face, arms, chests. They held hands and licked each other’s fingers. By the end of the meal, Jonathan was breathing hard. So was Rosemary.

  “Can we go now?” she said.

  “You that eager to be caned?” he said. “Tell me, have you ever been caned?”

  “My late husband,” she murmured, reaching across the table to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “No one else. Come on, let’s go.”

  Her hand wandered to his groin. He plucked it off, saying, “The last woman who did that without permission sported a swollen palm afterwards. Would you like me to strap your palm, Rosemary?”

  She jerked her hand back, shaking her head vigorously.

  He laughed. “Then we won’t go until I say we go. Not until we’ve had dessert.”

  The waiter appeared after knocking once, clearing dishes from the table. On a service cart was a small fondue pot, a mound of Driscoll strawberries, and a bowl of fresh whipped cream.

  Rosemary sniffed. “I smell chocolate.”

  Jonathan motioned to the waiter. “The meal and your tip have been taken care of, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you. I hope to see you and the lady again, Dr. Kent.”

  “I told you it would be worth it,” he said as she exclaimed over the dessert. “Here.” He speared a perfect red berry, dipped it in the fondue, then swiped it through the whipped cream before offering it to her lips.

  His cock was so hard it hurt, and watching Rosemary nibble and lick the strawberry wasn’t exactly turning him soft.

  “My turn,” she said, choosing a strawberry and copying his procedure.

  “Man, that’s good,” he said. “Nothing like strawberries dipped in chocolate.”

  “They’re even better served with champagne. The real thing, from France.”

  He prepared another berry for her, this time feeding it to her with his fingers. “We’ll have to try that some time soon. I’m ready to dispense with dessert and begin your discipline.”

  She sucked his middle finger after finishing the berry. A moan escaped him. She grinned. “So, we can go now?”

  “We can go now.”

  He had the dessert packaged to take home with him. Another round of dessert would taste good, later. Much later.

  They stood at the restaurant’s entrance, bundled up against the early December cold. Jonathan slipped his hand inside her coat, caressing her bottom. He could feel it clench under his fingers.

  “The only thing left to decide is, your home, or mine?”

  Oh, God, I’m going to come right here.

  Rosemary’s vagina squeezed. Jonathan was feeling up her backside. Now goosebumps covered it.

  “Rosemary? Where?” he said, pinching her. She jumped.

  “Oh! My house would be all right.”

  “I’ll get a hotel room, if you prefer,” he said. He touched her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I want you to feel safe.”

  Those eyes of his, sometimes like steel, sometimes flinty, were now shining like molten silver. She went on tiptoe to kiss him, but he pulled away with a laugh.

  “Naughty, naughty,” he whispered. “I’ll add on more cane strokes if you don’t behave.”

  I trust this man with my life. In fact, I have, that night in the restaurant parking lot.

  She whispered back, “Let’s go to my house. It’s barely ten minutes away.”

  She drove carefully, keeping an eye on her rearview mirror. She didn’t want to lose Jonathan, who was following her.

  But after they were safely inside her home, she felt shy, tongue-tied.

  How do we start?

  “Rosemary, give me your coat,” he said. “I’ll hang yours and mine in this closet, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course,” she said. Only then did she see the duffle bag on the floor.

  “Yes, that bag has the cane in it. Along with a few other things we might find interesting, if all goes well. Rosemary,” he said, his tone of voice now sharp, “bring me an armless chair, and place it in the middle of this room.”

  She did as he ordered. He sat on the chair while she shifted from foot to foot.

  How do we start?

  “Rosemary, you know the drill. Get across my lap. Now.”

  “Yes, sir.” She settled herself across his lap, his muscular thighs easier to lie on than she’d thought they would be.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He laughed. “That’s going to change.”

  His
fingers snaked under her dress. She heard him suck in his breath when he discovered the stockings and tap pants. He wasted no time rolling her dress to her waist.

  “You are a dream walking,” he said. “But you’ve misbehaved. For your lateness, you will receive thirty slaps with my hand. The cane will follow.”

  She scrunched her eyes tight, waiting for the first spank to fall. Instead, she felt his fingers explore under the tap pants, caressing her bottom.

  She waited. And waited. The caressing continued.

  “Well?” she said, unable to control herself.

  “Are you that eager? It’s going to hurt, you know.” He pulled her tap pants to her knees. Now she was finally, completely, bare and vulnerable.

  “You’d better not lose those panties,” he said. “I want to see them stay at your knees.”

  Only then did she remember how difficult it became not to kick and struggle when the spanks landed. Panic grabbed her. “Sir, you know, I think maybe I --”

  Suddenly, one cheek stung. She gasped. She’d forgotten how much a spanking could hurt. And this one was just beginning.

  One hard slap after another landed. Jonathan had a wicked style. He’d spank the same spot at least four times, which burned like hell. And he didn’t ignore her upper thighs. She’d always hated having her thighs spanked.

  “Ow, ow, ow,” she moaned. “It really stings. You spank too hard.”

  “Nonsense. This is only a warm-up. And I’ll decide, not you, what’s too hard.”

  Crisp reports sounded as he continued spanking her with his hand. She squirmed, protesting wordlessly. After one especially hard smack in the center of her sit-down spot, she kicked her tap pants completely off.

  “Rosemary,” he said, “you lost your panties. I warned you not to lose your panties.”

  “Dr., I mean, Jonathan, please, I couldn’t help it.”

  “Would you rather take ten more with my hand, or two more with the cane? Your choice.”

  All she knew was that her bottom was smarting unbearably and she couldn’t take too many more hand spanks. “Two with the cane,” popped from her mouth before she realized what she’d said.

  Two more with the cane? You idiot!

  “I mean, I mean, ten more with your hand,” she hastened to say.

  “Sorry. You made your choice. Two more with the cane, for a total of ten, it shall be.”

  “Jonathannnn,” she whined.

  “Stop that ugly noise this instant, or you’ll get ten more with my hand, and two more with the cane.”

  Rosemary shut her mouth, enduring the rest of her hand spanking without much complaint. Tears had just begun to burn her eyelids when he announced, “Now for the cane. Stand up, and keep your hands off your stinging backside while you strip.”

  “Strip?”

  She stood. He stood. She looked up at his stern visage, trembling.

  “I want you to feel utterly submissive,” he said. “Strip naked for me, now. Don’t make me tell you again.”

  She unzipped her silky dress, letting it flow to the floor. When she unhooked her bra, freeing her breasts, she heard his quiet groan. Then she removed her shoes, stockings, and garter belt. Her bottom burned a little less now, leaving a very pleasant warmth between her legs.

  Frankly, she was damned wet.

  “Bend over the back of the chair. I won’t bind you to it, but I expect you to keep your hands on the chair’s seat, and your feet planted on the floor at all times.”

  She took her position, her breasts swaying, her sitting area stinging, her vagina eager for him.

  Whiplike swishes through the air caught her attention, triggering memories. The initial shock of the cane’s stroke. The deep, throbbing sting that builds. The soreness of the welts, later.

  “Just practicing,” he said.

  His hands moved her feet apart until they rested even with the chair’s legs. He trailed his fingertips across the crest of her bottom.

  “I will give you five on each cheek, and I will try not to overlap the strokes,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” She swallowed.

  A slight swishing sound and a fierce sting. Rosemary inhaled sharply as the smart deepened to a throb.

  His fingers tweaked her nipples, already hard as little pebbles.

  A swish, a burn, a deep, deep hurt. She grunted.

  Fingers brushed her pubic hair, one tip tracing the entrance to her vagina.

  “How are you?” he said, his finger still teasing her.

  “Touching me between the blows helps, ahhh,” she said when his finger tickled her clit.

  Another sharp sting, deep burn, throb. Another tweak of her nipples, this time hard enough to make her wince, and yet it felt so good.

  Two more quick strokes, one on the area where buttock and thigh join, and one on her thigh, brought tears. She gripped the seat of the chair tightly to keep from clutching her bottom. He rubbed her back while she sobbed.

  “Are you still all right?” he said. “We didn’t discuss a safe word. Please, tell me if I reach your limit. I will stop immediately.”

  She shook her head. “A f-few tears are g-good. Cleansing. Ohhhh.”

  Two fingers had invaded her deeply. She thrust her hips while he massaged her G-spot.

  “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he whispered. “Beautifully submissive, beautifully brave and trusting, beautifully striped from the cane, beautiful in body and mind and spirit.”

  He traced each red line with one hand while still thrusting inside her with the other.

  “Time for the last five,” he murmured, withdrawing both hands from her flesh.

  This time, no comforting touches soothed her between blows. Instead, he caned her other cheek with all five strokes in less than fifteen seconds. Her butt cheeks were on fire, throbbing, aching, overwhelming her. She cried loudly, her tears puddling on the chair’s seat, her hands holding the chair, her feet firmly planted on the floor. However, she couldn’t resist bobbing her bottom up and down a few times in a vain attempt to ease the smart.

  Jonathan’s hands pushed her thighs wider. His hot breath tickled the ends of her pubic hair, and she shivered once she realized what he was going to do.

  He inhaled the scent of musky, aroused female, feeling his dick ache for contact. For the life of him, he didn’t know how he’d managed to wait this long before making love to her tonight.

  Her folds glistened from sexual excitement. Bringing his lips in contact with them, he explored with his tongue.

  “Oh, God,” he heard her mutter, and her whole being seemed to melt against him. He’d found the precise spot that would bring her the most pleasure. He sucked gently, sometimes flicking his tongue’s tip across her clit, sometimes giving it a slow, lavish lick.

  Her swollen nub withdrew a little from his attentions. Her orgasm was near. He heard her panting, her cries. He doubled his efforts, determined to give her the best oral-sex orgasm she’d ever experienced.

  “Jon-ah-than, I’m, uh, oh!” She pulsed against his mouth. He stayed with her, his hands gripping her undulating hips, until she stopped moving and moaning.

  “Rosemary,” he whispered. “Stand and face me.”

  She did so. He used his thumbs to wipe away tears on her cheeks that hadn’t yet dried.

  “I don’t know what to say right now,” she whispered.

  “Don’t say anything.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, his mouth demanding hers, their tongues meeting and withdrawing in a sensual dance. He ran his hands down her back, felt the small ridges left by the cane, swallowed her gasp when he touched her.

  He broke their kiss. She tried to plant her mouth on his again, but he moved to her breasts, the breasts he’d longed to kiss and suck. His tongue roamed from one to the other until he finally settled on one nipple, sucking it deeply into his mouth, nipping it with his teeth now and then. Her hands were on his head, encouraging him. His fingers sought her wetness, and
she sighed when he found it.

  He stood, ripping his clothing off. Once naked, he caressed between her legs. “Bend over the chair again.” He could barely speak around his ragged breathing.

  “Not until I do this.” Her fingers teased the length of his cock before settling on it. Her slow motions threatened to break his self-control.

  “Rosemary, bend over the chair now.” His tone was harsh. He emphasized his control by shoving his fingers up her. She complied.

  No longer could he be denied.

  After donning a condom, his cock seemed to lead him forward until it was sunk inside her to the hilt. Slow, powerful thrusts left him nearly unable to breathe, so longed-for was the moment. He looked down at her hips moving smoothly and had an idea.

  His unhurried pace was driving her crazy. She pushed against him, trying to increase the tempo, but he continued his leisurely, deliberate movements as if her own had no effect on him.

  She’d forgotten he was bigger than Charlie had been, and it hurt a little until she stretched. Not that her discomfort was such a bad thing. It contributed to her head trip of submitting to him completely, her bottom striped and sore, bent over a chair, taken from behind, his pace running the show.

  His finger slipped inside her, alongside his cock. She groaned a little as her vagina stretched again to accommodate. When his finger withdrew, she felt it wetting her anus, massaging it, slipping inside.

  “Rosemary.” His voice seemed to come from the bottom of him, it was so husky. “Have you ever --? May I? Here?”

  She had no problem determining where “here” was.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “Yes to what you want. I want it, too.”

  His finger was soon joined by a second one. He opened her anus, relaxing the muscle, while he continued to screw her leisurely.

  Suddenly, he withdrew his cock and fingers. Something large and wet began to push against her anus. She had a moment of panic, afraid she’d never be able to take him in, until he soothed her with his voice. “Relax, we have all night,” he said, one of his thumbs up her vagina, massaging her swollen G-spot. “Let go, let go, be the wild woman you were in my office that day.”

  Memories of their rough sex, their naked need, flooded her mind, relaxing her. His cock’s head slipped inside. His thumb in her vagina made her focus on her building orgasm while he slowly but relentlessly slid up her back entrance, fractions of an inch at a time. Her fingers sought her clit, aching with desire as she was. The completely full sensation from his cock and his fat, marauding thumb drove her hips to impale herself on him. She whimpered when his last few inches were shoved in all at once, even though it was her own doing.