The professors disobedie.., p.1
The Professor’s Disobedient Brat, page 1
The Professor’s Disobedient Brat
THE TEACHER’S AGE GAP BRAT
PENNY SNOAK
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
ALSO BY PENNY SNOAK
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
I walk into the office, head held high. I know Professor Parker isn’t happy with me and I’m glad to put that at the top of the list of things I don’t give a damn about. I don’t even want to be in college, much less in this stupid ass communications class. I have better things to do than waste my time in this class. I most certainly have better things to do than actually have to talk to the damned teacher about it.
He looks up from where he sits behind the desk and shakes his head slowly. “You’ve got a real problem, Miss Clarkson,” he says.
“Yeah,” I reply. “I’m stuck having to meet with you when I could be home watching TV or out at the beach.”
His eyes narrow and it’s actually a little bit scary. For the love of God, it’s also sexy as hell. I don’t have the slightest idea how in the world to react to it other than to stare. When he says a little sternly, “Sit down.” I rush to obey.
Of course, once I’m seated, I feel pretty idiotic for complying so quickly. So, I sigh heavily, roll my eyes, and slouch in the chair. “Do you think you’re still in high school?” he asks.
I let out a groan of frustration. “Can you just say whatever you want to say so I can get on with my life?”
He points at the door. “You have two choices, Tami. One, you get up and walk out that door. I’ll drop you from the class. It won’t even affect your grade. Two, you get up, close that door, lock it, and close the blinds, and then come back here and sit down.”
It’s such a shocking thing.
I don’t know if it’s because he used my first name instead of calling me Miss Clarkson but it’s also somehow incredibly erotic. I swallow hard and say, “What are you going to do if I stay?”
He says, “You show up late to this class and, I imagine, to all the rest. Your parents pay a lot of money for this school, which is stupid because all your test scores indicate you would have gotten a full-ride scholarship if you’d bothered to fill out the paperwork. You have an attitude that needs to be fixed. My guess is you’re pissed at Mommy and Daddy. What happened? You were supposed to get a Porsche and they only gave you a Land Rover? You were supposed to get an apartment instead of a dorm room?”
I gasp because he’s damned close. Meekly, I say, “I was supposed to have a gap year in Europe.”
He shakes his head. “Well, the great news is you’re doing a bang-up job of ruining your life. That’ll show them.”
I can’t believe he’s talking to me this way. I especially can’t believe that I feel foolish instead of angry. “Well, what are you going to do if I stay?”
“I’m going to do whatever the hell I want to do,” he replies.
I scoff and stand up, then storm to the door. I have every intention of walking out and ignoring his calls for me to return. Instead, I close the door, still inside the room, and lock it. Then I go to each window, ensure it’s closed and locked, and shutter the blinds. Then I return to my desk.
As soon as I sit, Professor Parker sets a pen and paper on my desk, then returns to his desk and sits.
“I’m going to give you some instructions,” he says. “And I want you to write them down as I give them to you.”
“Whatever,” I say.
“You will address me as sir!” he snaps.
I jump and immediately respond with a “Yes, sir.”
The breathiness in my tone and the flush in my cheeks confirm to me that I actually am as turned on as I feel. He nods and says, “That’s better. Now, first, you will wake up every morning at six a.m.”
“Six!” I shout. “That’s—”
“Did I give you permission to speak?” he asks.
I clap my mouth shut and after a moment, he says, “When you wake up, you will do the following things in the same order every morning. First, you will make your bed. Second, you will exercise for thirty minutes. Third, you will make a healthy breakfast. Later, we’ll talk about what foods you’ll be allowed to eat.”
Allowed to eat? Am I really going along with this?
Apparently, I am, because I don’t complain further. Instead, I dutifully write down each instruction he gives me.
“After you eat,” he continues, you will shower and dress within one hour. We’ll make another list of appropriate clothing for school, leisure time, and work.”
“Work?” I interrupt.
“That’s my next instruction,” he says. “When you are finished showering, you will go straight to work or straight to class depending on what your schedule for the day is.”
“But I don’t have a job!” I protest.
“Then you will apply for jobs until you find one. We can work on that together as well. When you return home, you will study until you have completed every assignment due and made significant progress on upcoming assignments. Then, you will make yourself a healthy dinner before bed.”
He gives me some more instructions that all sound like chores. I write them down, but I feel my impatience growing. Why do older people hate fun so much? Is it so terrible that I want some enjoyment from my life while I’m still young and able to have fun?
When he tells me I will be choosing a club to volunteer at on weekends, I lose my cool.
“Are you kidding me?” I exclaim. “I’ll never have any time to go out!”
“You won’t need time for anyone but me, little girl,” he says. “And we’ll make time for that.”
A shiver runs through my pussy when he calls me little girl and another when I reflect on what he might mean by making time for him. Still, I’m not about to throw my entire social life away, so I stare at him defiantly and say, “No. I won’t do it.”
He stares straight back at me and points silently at the door.
I sigh and say, “All right, fine. I’ll do my chores, finish my homework, and slave away at work, class and whatever stupid club decide they want me to do stupid stuff for them. Anything else you want me to do?”
CHAPTER TWO
Why the hell am I doing this?
It’s like this man has some kind of impossible sway over me.
“What’s next is you are going to pay the price for your previous flippancy,” he says. His words send a terrifying chill up and down my spine but they also affect me in another completely unexpected way. I feel like my body is suddenly desperate for him.
Well, hell, he’s really hot.
He’s about twenty years older than me, maybe more. I mean, I’m just eighteen years old with a few weeks to spare. I guess lots of women are turned on by older men. I’m barely a woman, so I guess almost all men are older than me. He’s much older.
Fuck, my mind is running in circles.
I realize he’s staring at me. I want to say, “What do you mean?” Instead, I say, “Okay.” I say it in such a humble way! It’s so damned strange for me to be compliant. I don’t have any idea why I am except that there’s something about this man that makes disobedience seem impossible.
“Good girl,” he says. I have no idea why those two words of praise seem to just fill me with a glowing sense of accomplishment.
“Thank you, Professor,” I say. For God’s sake, my voice sounds like it might if I just received a big box of Valentine’s Day chocolates from him!
“Stand up and remove your clothes.” He says. He says the words in such a matter-of-fact tone that for a second, the import of them is lost on me. I mean, I register what he says but it’s like there’s a disconnect between understanding it and comprehending it. “Now!” he says.
God help me, I immediately say, “Yes, Professor,” and stand up to obey. For all my bluster and wildness, I’m kind of a prude. I guess a better way to put that is I’m kind of a cock tease. I make guys think they’re going to get lucky with me but the best they can hope for is a hand job if they make me feel exceptionally special on a date.
I realize as I unbutton my blouse and set it on the chair that the professor will actually be the first man to see me naked.
It’s kind of strange to think I’ve had cum all over my face, but no man has ever seen me naked.
I step out of my shoes, and I almost feel robotic about how I go about getting undressed. What I mean is, I don’t put any thought into it. My hands just move until I’m standing in just my little lacy bra and even little lacy panties.
“Tami,” the professor says, “your underwear is clothing and you’re to remove it all.”
I nod almost eagerly, which is not something I did intentionally at all. The next thing I know, my bra and my panties are on the chair. Professor Parker stands up next to the desk and says, “Come here.”
I approach without hesitation and wonder again why I so instantly do whatever he tells me to even though I intend to be defiant. It’s like my intentions have no power at the moment. My body belongs to him, and his commands are the only ones it will respond to.
When I am right in front of him, he turns me to face the desk. He puts one hand on my hip to steady me, then pushes my shoulders down over the desk with his other hand. I feel my heartbeat quicken and arch my back. I’ve never had sex before but incredibly I have no fear. I
He doesn’t fuck me.
Instead, his hand slams down onto my ass. I cry out and stiffen as a bolt of pain shoots through me. That cry turns into a moan when the pain is followed by an equally powerful rush of pleasure.
What the hell? Why does it turn me on so much that he spanks me?
“Oh God,” I breathe.
“You will not speak unless I say so,” he says sternly and the command in his voice is nearly as intoxicating as the spanking.
He spanks me again and there’s another cry that becomes a moan. By the fifth spank, I am crying and by the tenth, I am weeping. The pain does nothing to lessen the pleasure and in fact intensifies it, so I still moan after each spank lands.
When he’s finished, I rub my thighs together automatically until he says, “Stay still, little girl.”
I stay still and arch my back again, bracing myself for his cock to enter me.
Instead of fucking me, he says, “Get dressed.”
I look at him, shocked, but nothing on his face indicates that he’s going to change his mind, so I reluctantly straighten, wincing at the pain in my ass, and begin pulling my clothes back on. My ass feels like it’s on fire and I wince a few more times as I slide my underwear, then my jeans over my ass.
When I am dressed, he says, “You are to go straight to the library and type a copy of these instructions word for word. You will print them and return them to me tomorrow. Do you understand?”
I nod and he says, “Use your words.”
“Yes, professor,” I say.
The words come out like a moan, and I give up trying to pretend to be defiant.
“Excellent,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I leave the room, limping a little due to the pain in my ass. I head straight to the library—another indication that resisting his instructions is pointless—and type and print the instructions as requested. When I finish, I
head back to my dorm room.
When I arrive, I notice with almost profound relief that my roommate isn’t here. I lock the door and hang a sock on the outside. It’s our agreed-upon symbol when we have a boy over and don’t want to be disturbed.
I don’t have a boy over, but I definitely don’t want to be disturbed. I tear my clothes off and jump onto the bed, then immediately put my hand in between my legs.
When my orgasm arrives, it’s so powerful that I scream and have to turn over and bury my head into the pillow to keep from attracting attention.
When my orgasm finally fades, I moan, “Oh God, professor.”
CHAPTER THREE
I masturbate when I wake up. Then, type the list of tasks out on my computer. I can’t believe that my nipples grow hard typing a list that essentially takes away all my freedom. What the hell? Professor Parker wants me to put my class schedule on this list and I actually have to dig the thing out of my purse. I don’t even know when my fucking classes are! I have today off except for Parker’s class. I already knew that.
I type my scheduler and then put on my robe so I can go across the hallway to shower. Each dorm room has a small half-bathroom. The showers are communal. Well, more accurately, there is a big shower room with different stalls. So, there’s a little bit of privacy but they only get neck high to a short girl. For the first time, I masturbate in the shower there.
I’m pretty sure nobody knows.
When I get back to my dorm room, I’m still horny thinking about him. I get dressed and as I do, I realize I’m dressing for him. I end up wearing a short skirt, knee-high black socks, buckle schoolgirl shoes, and a poofy pink blouse.
I don’t know whether to feel excited about my look or to feel stupid!
It doesn’t matter.
I gather my things and walk from my dorm building to the J.D. Smith Humanities Building, where the Communications Department is housed. I have the list as well as my communications text and a notebook for class. I get to his office and another student is sitting in the chair. I feel a surge of jealousy I can’t even begin to comprehend.
Maybe my problem is just that the girl is good-looking.
She is.
It pisses me off.
When she leaves, I smile at her as though nothing is running through my mind but when I step inside, I snap, “Are you spanking her, too?”
He doesn’t even look up as he says, “Sit down, Tami.”
I instantly obey, trepidation filling me. He stands and walks to the door, this time closing and locking it himself. He does the blinds, too. He walks to where I sit and says, “You need to learn to behave and part of behaving is understanding when to use your mouth and when not to. Clearly, you need something to do with your mouth right now.”
I try to wrap my head around what he’s saying but it isn’t until his cock is out of his pants and his hand is on the back of my head that I realize it. His dick is very hard. It seems to pulse with anticipation. His dick is also very big.
Very, very big.
I just stare as he pulls me toward it. It isn’t until the head of his cock pressed against my lips that I think to open my mouth. A moment later, with both hands on my head, Professor Parker is firmly and rhythmically moving his hips so my lips travel back and forth on his cock.
I realize suddenly that this is the first time I’ve had a cock in my mouth. I’ve given tons of hand jobs but never allowed a guy to use my mouth. My prom date begged me but I said no and when he kept bugging me, I punished him by leaving him on the dance floor and taking his best friend to the bathroom so I could give him a hand job. He was the guy I allowed to cum on my face.
Now, Professor Parker is not only the first guy to enter my mouth but the first one to enter my throat. He does it slowly at first, positioning himself at the back of my throat and easing himself in. He increases his speed and depth each time until, by the end, he’s basically fucking my throat the way he’d fuck a pussy, thrusting fast and hard and deep so my lips are crushed against him with each thrust.
I can’t believe how turned on I am. My pussy throbs as though it’s the part of me getting fucked instead of my mouth. I want to rub my clit while I give him a blowjob but I’m afraid he’ll stop if I do something he didn’t tell me to, so I only sit there and go crazy with need while he uses me to take care of his needs.
When he’s about to cum, he pulls out. If we were somewhere private, I would let him cum on my face but since we both have class after this, I won’t have time to change and I don’t want his cum to drip onto my blouse and attract unwanted attention, so I open my mouth and hold it just in front of his head.
He cries out and begins shooting into my mouth. I keep my eyes locked on his while he jerks every drop of semen out of him and onto my tongue. I wait until he’s finished, then keep my eyes on him while I swallow.
“Good girl,” he says.
It feels like a bolt of lightning shoots from my clit through the rest of my body when he says that. I spasm and for a second, I think I actually came but the feeling subsides and I am still left burning with unsatisfied need.
He leaves me on my knees and returns to his desk to look over my list. He reads through them, then lifts his pen. “I’m going to make one change,” he says. “I want you to take notes in every class and I want you to be prepared to talk about what you’re learning whenever I ask you to.”
“Yes, professor,” I say. My voice is husky and I’m not sure if it’s because he was just pounding my throat or if it’s because I’m desperate with need.
“We’ll start in two days,” he says. “I want you to take detailed notes in each class you attend. I want you to keep up with every assignment as well, as we originally discussed. When you see me here again in two days, I want you to be prepared to summarize each class and talk about what you learned.”
“Yes, professor,” I reply.
“Good girl,” he says, sending another rush of pleasure through me.
God, I wish he’d just fuck me!
“Go get ready for class,” he says. “It starts in ten minutes.”
I head to the classroom and when Professor Parker starts the lecture, I take perfectly detailed notes.
