From Student to Slave

I am a Professor of Mathematics at a state school in the lower Midwest, I am tenured and have an excellent reputation among my peers and students alike, I am highly rated on the on-line professor rating sites and every now and then one of my students will rate me with a chili-pepper, a real ego boost since I am now over fifty. I didn't date much, my wife of thirty years died of cancer 28 months ago and I just never found anyone who begins to compare. So most of my time and energy was put into my students, I have never dated a student nor ever suggested anything inappropriate in any way, and I certainly would never jeopardize my career for a piece of ass.

Last fall Lyncee (yes, I know "creative" spelling) came into my classroom and into my life in ways I would have never imagined. She missed the first three class meetings and my first contact was after I had emailed a warning of withdraw for non-attendance to her personal email address. I sent it to her personal address because she had not responded to any previous notes sent to her school email.

"Mr. Thompson, I have been very busy and unable to work your class into my schedule I will attempt to be there next week and will catch up then have I missed anything important? I look forward to having you as my teacher. Lyncee" was her first correspondence.

I paid little attention to it as there are always students who are slow to get started. She didn't make it to the next weeks classes, and when she finally did show up, in the fourth week of the semester she was 20 minutes late and made a grand entry. The door to the classroom opened and remained open, from my position at the lectern I could not see outside the door. Then very loudly we all hear "PSSSTT, PSSST, Hey, hey guy, is this math 115?"

The male student closest to the door turned toward her and replied that it was.

"Good, I've been looking for this class for an hour," she spoke as she entered, carrying a coach purse that was almost as big as she, and nothing else, no text, no note paper, pencils, pens or anything that would remotely suggest she was a student.

"You Thompson?" she asked now addressing me.

"I am, and who are you?" I replied

Walking directly to the front of the room with her hand extended, "Hi, I'm Lyncee, we spoke in email, sorry I missed last week, I had car problems."

"Please take a seat Lyncee, I trust you have read the syllabus?"

"No, was I sposed (sic) too? Like I said I missed last week. What did we talk about?" she rambled.

It took another ten minutes and my promise to catch her up after class to get her to sit down so that I could resume the lecture.

Before I continue let me try and describe Lyncee's appearance. She was dressed completely in shades of baby-blue. Ribbons with large blue flowers divided her hair into pony-tails behind each ear. A lace transparent blouse in powder blue with a very high collard but no visible buttons was covered by a blue velour bustier. A blue and white miniskirt with lace resembling a ballet tutu rested on her hips but ended a good four inches above the lace tops of her white thigh high stockings. On her feet she wore open toed stiletto heels that were at least five inches tall.

She was thin, maybe 120 pounds, and tall, with the heels she was taller than my 6'2", legs that went on forever, and looked very nice in those thigh high stockings. She had a very thin waist and an exaggerated bust, either the product of a lot of extra padding or a boob job. Her hair was a very light blond with golden highlights. She was cute, even attractive, but not beautiful, at twenty-two she struck me as having lived a life of privilege. She was somebody's princess. Her make-up was flawless, and her nails looked like she had received a manicure that very morning.

She caught the eye of every male in the class, I thought to myself, that if I was a student, I would probably date her, if I could afford her, obviously very high maintenance. When she finally sat down and shuffled her legs under the table, one at a time the shortness of her skirt, and action of moving one leg at a time, caused her to expose the gusset, or lack thereof of her panties to me. I could not help but notice the large tuft of blonde pubic hair obscuring her slit.

"A true blonde," I thought.

About midway through that first class her phone buzzed and she engaged in a lengthy texting session.

"Lyncee, I do not allow cell phones in class, please put it away" I explained.

"But this is important," she pleaded.

"Not to anyone else here, to the rest of us, it is merely an unwelcome distraction, please turn, it off."

"I need to finish this text."

"Then do it outside."

"Fine," she replied as she grabbed her bag, flashed me again and exited the class, mumbling about me being an asshole.

I didn't see her for another week, and when she did show up she was late again, and again went out of her way to disrupt the class on her entrance, talking loudly on her cell as she entered. This time she was dressed in club wear, a skin tight lycra one piece halter top miniskirt with no visible undergarment lines, and hooker heels. The question of padding was resolved, those were definitely implants.

She sat in the same chair and flashed her pantiless pussy at me again, before telling whoever she was talking to that she was in class and had to go. I thanked her for joining us. Again she sat there without opening a book or taking a note, looking bored. When she picked up her phone, I dropped my chin and looked at her over my glasses, so she put the phone back rather quickly.

Toward the end of the lecture I reminded the class of the test coming up next class, which room we would be using for testing, reminded the students to bring their login-id's and that they could use their calculator on this exam.

Lyncee interrupted, "We are having our first test Wednesday?"

"No we are having our second test Wednesday." I replied.

"When was the first?"

"Three weeks ago."

"When can I make it up?

"Stay after class and we will discuss it"

After the class was over Lyncee stood one arm wrapped across below her breasts causing them to push up straining the halter top, her nipples like two frozen peas beneath the stretchy material, the other bent with her hand resting on her hip causing the short dress to pull up on that side, nearly exposing the naked bush beneath. She had a great figure and she knew it. I waited for her to speak, enjoying the view of her. When she did, she started with a very aggressive tone, then restarted somewhat less confrontive, before taking on an apologetic tone.

"Mr. Thompson, I have had a terrible time this semester, my fiancée and I lost our apartment, then they kicked us out of the hotel we were living in, just because we complained about the dogs, and the new hotel wouldn't let us keep our dogs there. We finally got a place, and have been trying to get all our stuff back. Financial aid hasn't paid me anything yet, those ass-holes are just jerking me around. I didn't have the money to buy the software so I am way behind, I didn't know about the first test, you didn't tell me. And I am not at all ready to take the test on Wednesday." She ranted, sounding like she was beginning to cry. She held her hand to her face as if to wipe away tears, although none were present.

Call me an old softy, I let her off the hook. "When can you get the software?" I asked.

"I was going to buy it this Thursday," she replied.

"Okay I will reset all the homework dates so you are not penalized , tell me when you are ready to take the tests, and I will set you up to take them in the proctor center, but Lyncee, you have to get caught up, We are almost halfway through the semester."

"I will Mr. Thompson, I promise I will, I knew you was a good guy."

She didn't show up for the test, didn't show up for another week, when she did I asked her why she hadn't completed any of the assignments, she told another sob story of a "son-of-a-motherfucking-bitch, asshole cop" who gave her a ticket, even though she wasn't speeding and she had to spend her software money to get her car out of the impound. But she was getting the software from a friend this weekend.

It went on all semester, one excuse after another, always someone else's fault, I emailed her to warn her the last day to drop, then emailed her again of the nearing close of the semester and that all work had to be in before the last day of class. She was present at the last day of instruction, and waited until after class to tell me that I had promised to let her make things up without penalty. I assured her that I had done as promised but that I could not extend the semester; she had to get what she was going to get done before the end of next week.

"You are a Liar, and a fucking pervert, don't think I don't see you looking at me. You will let me finish late or else." She exploded in anger.

"Or else what Lyncee? You have until noon next Friday, after that I have to record the grades."

"You'll hear from my lawyer, asshole." She barked, as she stormed down the hall.

The door didn't even close before my Dean stuck his head into my room. "What was that all about?" He questioned.

I told him the story of the whole semester, without the references to her appearance.

"You better write this up, she's is going to be trouble," he prophesized, correctly.

The next day I received a call from the Provost wanting to talk to me in His office. I had a file of all the correspondence, record of conversations, printout of her gradebook and attendance, record of her time on task, first login, everything, I was ready. After our discussion, the provost suggested I do as I had stated, but record the grade immediately at 12:00 PM and not a second later, and asked for a copy of the file.

Lyncee did show to take the final, made less than 10% on her grade. After everyone else had left she confronted me saying that I lied and was not giving her enough time, and that I didn't teach what we had just tested over, ranting, cursing and accusing me of being everything but right. My Dean had stepped in without her notice as her attentions were focused on me.

After letting her rant for a few minutes he interrupted, "Lyncee, I think I have heard enough, Professor Thompson has shown great cooperation and patience with you , it is time for you to leave."

"Who the fuck are you? You can go to hell, what are you some kinda butthole buddies, I am going to tell my lawyer and sue both of your sorry asses, and my boyfriend is gonna kick ass on both you perverts"

She slammed the door on her exit.

"I am going to campus police,' Said Dean on his exit.

I went to my office and was busy grading finals when the phone rang the caller ID identified Lyncee as the caller.

"This is Mike," I answered, with the phone on speaker.

"Are you the fucking asshole who is jerking around my girlfriend?" an unknown voice yelled from the other end.

"Who is calling?" I queried.

"I am Staff Sergeant Hawk Bowling" He responded proudly.

"And who is your girlfriend?" I love antagonizing idiots.

"You know god dammed well who my girlfriend is, and she has told me about you trying to fuck her over.

"Sir, I don't know who you are or who your girlfriend is, but I bet lots of other guys fuck her regularly." I said intent or really pissing him off.

"You mother fucker, I am a soldier, and I am gonna come down there and take you out, you and that asshole buddy of yours, what's his name dean or something?"

What neither Sergeant Bowling nor I knew was that at that instant the Chief of the campus police walked into my office.

"Excuse me, who is on the line?" Chief Watson asked.

"Are you all fucking dense, I am Staff Sergeant Hawk Bowling, and I am so pissed off I think I may have to kill you too motherfucker, who the fuck are you?"

"Sir this is Chief Watson of the Campus Police Department, I think you need to calm down, and explain what has caused you to be so angry," as the chief spoke he was busy writing down the number from the caller display and the name that Hawk had just recited.

The chief calmed him a little, engaged him in military talk, found out about the sergeant's duty status, and unit, all the while recording the conversation. Hawk's anger at me didn't diminish and he swore that he was going to" hunt me down and take me out."

It was two week later before I heard anything further, Chief Watson, informed me that "my problem child" had some serious issues and was already in trouble over something that happened in Afghanistan, and with this added to the sergeant's problems he was headed for some serious jail time followed by a dishonorable discharge for conduct unbecoming. I thought it was probably deserved but felt sorry for the guy he was obviously under the spell of Lyncee.

Then I got the call from Lyncee, "Professor Thompson , can I please talk to you?"

"I don't think that's a good idea Lyncee, you failed and I will not change your grade."

"I understand that sir, it's not about me, it's about my boyfriend, they have arrested him and his jag guy says it's not good, can we please talk?"

"I am headed off to have lunch at Chilis I'm usually there for an hour or so, I won't talk to you if you bring anyone else."

She did show up and pleaded with me to make a statement that I never felt I was in danger, to tell the lawyer that I knew he (Sergeant) was only blowing off steam.

"Why would I do that Lyncee? All I know of your asshole boyfriend is that he is dangerous."

"Please, help him, if you don't he is going to be locked up for a long time, he's not the kind of guy to do well in prison, they'll kill him."

"I doubt they would kill him, probably just make him their bitch. They might be nice and give him a reach-around."

"That's not nice."

"I have no reason to be nice to him, or you for that matter."

"I know, I know, I was awful, I thought if I intimidated you , you would give me a good grade to avoid trouble, I didn't have a choice."

"Everybody, always has a choice."

"What can I do to make you help him?"

"Nothing, his prison buddies can fuck him to death for all I care."

"Please Mr. Thompson, I will do anything, I'll let you fuck me, I'll give you a blowjob, I don't have any money, but.."

"Give me your phone Lyncee."

I pulled the battery from her phone and left it open on the table.

"Are you trying to entrap me? You are a good looking young lady but you have caused me enough trouble already."

"I promise I am not trying to entrap me, look I don't have any wire or nothing," she said as she stood and twirled around, patting her chest and sides. The backless dress and plunging cleavage left little room for anything to be hidden there.

"What about there?" I asked as I nodded toward her hem.

"I can't show you that here, I don't have any panties on." She smiled.

"I tell you what let me pay my bill and we will go someplace else."

After paying the tab, my usual waitress being her typical friendly self, made me promise to come see her again next week, knowing already that I would. As Lyncee and I walked out together , I pointed her toward my CTS. She followed and took up the front passenger seat. As soon as I closed the door she raised her skirt to reveal that blonde tuft. She spread her legs then her lips to show that nothing was concealed. I started the car and we drove off.

I didn't think it would be a good Idea to take her to my house so I drove to the nearby Hilton and checked myself in.

"I'll be in room 632 if you want to come up." I informed her.

I had barely entered when she knocked at the door.

"Do we have a deal?" she asked.

"No, I won't even consider any agreement until I know you are genuine, and worth it, and willing to do everything I say, when I say it without hesitation. "

"I will make it worth your while," she said as she raised the hem of her dress over her head and revealed that near perfection of a body that she never tried to hide.

She was thin, not hard but soft like a girl should be, a barely there swell at her lower abdomen, perfect tits standing out from the ribs visible beneath her flesh, her areola just a shade darker than her skin, about the size of a quarter set just above the lower swell of her firm C cups, eraser sized firm little nipples. The perkiest tits I have ever seen. There was a gap between her thighs that seemed to invite a hand or cock, to fill it. The seam of her pussy was smooth no fleshy lips or clit exposed, the almost white hair of her pubes like a mist hovering over that mystery cave. Her ass was spectacular like two dodge balls pressed together, little dimples in each.

She walked over to me smiling larger at every step, knowing that she was now in control, seeing the evidence of her seductive power swelling beneath my fly. She looked up at me, raised her left hand to grasp my chin and pulled me to her for our first kiss, her tongue instantly exploring my mouth, her right hand reached for my belt, unclasping it and my fly, before reaching into my boxers to wrap her dainty hand around my swollen member.

"Mmmm, a nice big one," she flattered.

As she unbuttoned my shirt, she kissed the exposed flesh of my chest and stomach as each button fell away. When she reached the waistband of my boxers she pushed it down, causing boxers and trousers together to fall to my ankles. She knelt and raised each foot to slip off my shoes, socks and pants. When the pants were free, she bent to kiss each foot and begin her journey back up my legs kissing and trailing her tongue along the way. She might have sucked at math, but she was a pro at seduction.

Sitting on her heels, her knees extended together in front of her, she raised just enough to have her mouth at cock level. I couldn't remember the last time I was this hard. Precum was pouring out of my member. I was afraid I would shoot without ever getting it in her anywhere.

She grabbed my cock just at the base, her thumb and forefinger entrapping it, the other three fingers splayed out across my belly, she squeezed hard and covered the full length with her mouth, closed her lips tightly around me, sucked a tight vacuum and held me away as she pulled back, drawing my precum out as if through a straw.

She looked up at me making a show of licking her lips and smiling.

"You taste good, I think I'll have some more." She purred as she repeated the process again and again.

Either she was a great actress or she really enjoyed what she was doing. I know I was really enjoying what she was doing.

She reached her other hand around me, grasping a buttocks pulled me to her with one hand then pushing me away with the other.

"Tell me when you are about to cum," she spoke without removing her mouth from my cock.

She would withdraw, lick along the sides and underside, then return to sucking. She raised it up to kiss and suck my balls then again returned to her suction technique.

"You keep that up and I will come soon," I warned.

"Cum on my face," she ordered.

I shook my head in disagreement, "in your mouth," I claimed.

"I don't do that."

"You do today."

She sighed and resumed her ministrations. I told her I was about to cum just before releasing several jets into her mouth. When the first hit the back of her throat she heaved and ganged but held place, milking it all out with her hand. When I pulled back she raised her hand to spit out the contents. Again I shook my head.

"Swallow it!"

She looked at me with pleading eyes, and it was my turn to smile. She inhaled deeply through her nose tilted back her head and swallowed.

"I've never done that." She informed me as she stood.

"Neither have I," I honestly replied," but I liked it."

Sheepishly she replied, "so did I."

I sat at the bed's edge. Instead of sitting beside me, Lyncee sat in my lap wrapped her arms around me and laid her head on my shoulder, my still hard cock pushing against her thigh.