Keywords: Christina's, Detention,

"Christina?" The professor's voice boomed from inside his office. "You can come in now." Slowly Christina dragged herself up off the bench. The hard slats had left marks on the backs of her thighs. She rubbed at them and straightened the pleats in her skirt, nervously trying to compose her appearance before she went in. She smoothed the top of her head and twirled the end of her ponytail into one bouncy curl.

Her shoes scuffed on the hardwood floor, announcing her presence before she appeared in the doorway to his office. The interior was dimmed by the heavy drapes drawn over the windows behind his desk. The light in the hall illuminated her from behind, silhouetting her long legs. She reluctantly stepped into the office, her shoulders slumped, her lips in a sullen pout. She knew she was in trouble and was trying not to care. "Sit," the professor commanded her, motioning to a chair.

Christina did so, slouching in the big studded leather chair in front of the fortress of his desk. She crossed her legs, nudging the front of the oak desk with one of her mary janes. Idly she wiggled her foot to make designs on the polished surface with a residue of the rubber from her shoe. The muted light shimmered over her legs. Christina tugged her skirt a little lower so that it didn't ride up so high.

"I assume you know why you're here," he said sternly. She nodded, her ponytail bobbing. He continued. "It puzzles me that you refused to incriminate any of the others involved in this--" he seemed lost for words. "This mess," he finished. "You realize that by taking all of the blame you risk expulsion."

Christina's head jerked up at the mention of being kicked out completely. The professor took in her consternation.

"You cannot expect me to tolerate such behavior without some sort of punishment."

"I know." Her voice wasn't much more than a whisper. Christina's lower lip trembled.

"I am going to be lenient with you, Christina." She dared to look at him now, her large eyes apprehensive. He was not looking at her, was instead examining the backs of his hands on the desk. Her eyes dropped to notice how long his fingers were. Involuntarily Christina saw a split-second image of his fingers buried deep in her, stroking her G-spot, his thumb rubbing her clit as she cried out. Her face did not change, but when he looked up at her a blush colored the tips of her ears. A new kind of fear was in her eyes.

Suddenly the professor rose from his massive chair behind the desk. He linked his hands together behind his back and paced his office, nearing the door. Anxiously Christina watched him, twisting her head to follow his movements. Her hands were restless in her lap. The professor shut the door to his office. "What kind of punishment do you think you deserve, Christina?"

She turned around more fully, uncrossing her legs and leaning around the edge of her chair. "What do I think I deserve?" Her voice was still unsteady. Christina looked at him, tall and intimidating. She bit her lip. "Um, that is--"

"Yes?" He urged her to go on.

"Well, I don't think… I don't think you should expel me." She said the words in a rush and winced. Maybe she shouldn't have brought up the dreaded possibility. It seemed more likely that it would actually happen now that she had mentioned it. To her surprise the professor laughed.

"Expulsion is not what I had in mind," he said, for the first time his voice warming. She sighed in relief, blowing her bangs off her forehead. Christina relaxed a little, knowing that whatever punishments she suffered, at least she would stay in school. She realized the professor had moved closer, was in fact standing over her. "I won't expel you if you promise to be a good girl."

The hairs on the back of Christina's neck stood up. What was he referring to? What did he want her to do? What should she say? She licked her lips and looked up at him, trying to discern his meaning. His face was guarded, showing no expression, waiting for her answer. "I'll be good," she said in a small voice. No more chewing gum in class, no more smoking in the bathroom or kissing boys in the library or swearing. She would be on her best behavior from now on.

"I want you to promise."

"I promise. I'll be good." Anything to avoid being sent home in disgrace.

"Say it. Say you'll be a good girl."

"I'll be a good girl." At her words the professor's face finally changed from the stern mask to a tight smile. She did not have time to interpret the strange smile before he responded.

"Good." He bent his head close to her ear and she could smell his cologne. "Bend over the desk, Christina." She stiffened. "You heard me. You said you'd be a good girl. So be one," he commanded her, his breath stirring a wisp of her hair. Slowly she rose from her chair and stood in front of his huge desk, only bending slightly from the waist. Her cheeks burned and her mouth was dry.

He stood behind her, a heavy hand between her shoulder blades pushing her forward until she could smell the papery scent of the blotter on his desk. Christina's hands pressed against the desk on either side of her head. She trembled, not knowing what to expect. The professor stood back, appreciating the subservient picture she made. Her plaid skirt had risen from its original position at the backs of her thighs to frame the curves of her ass, exposed by the tiny pair of thong underwear that she wore. He could see goose bumps breaking out on her pale skin.

"What's going to happen next?" Christina's unsteady voice was muffled by the desk. "What are you going to do to me?" She could feel the professor's warm hand stroke her leg. She trembled as it rose higher to smooth over her butt.

"Why don't you just wait and see? " His fingers traced the line of her thong, from high on her hip down to the cleft of her ass. She jerked as he touched her asshole through the thin cotton, but he didn't linger. His touch continued down between her legs to the warmth of her pussy. Christina jumped again, but this time he felt a spurt of wetness against the fabric of her panties.

Christina closed her eyes in humiliation. Imagine getting turned on by your teacher, letting him feel you this way! Her mind relented in order to avoid getting expelled. Yet her body was only too happy to respond to his insulting touch. He stroked her through her underwear, feeling the small firmness of her clit against his fingertip. Christina let out a gasp, but refused to let herself arch against his hand as she wanted to. His fingers left her pussy. Her hips gave a backward thrust, as though trying to persuade them to come back. But his hands were already somewhere else.

The professor reached up underneath her skirt to grasp her thong and pull it down. The meager strip of fabric curled up as he slid it down her legs, kneeling to pull it off. Christina stepped out of it one foot at a time, feeling the cool air in the office assault her hot pussy. Suddenly the temperature of that air changed again, this time to his warm breath on her cunt. "I see you shave," he said, giving her shivers. He licked the soft skin of her inner thigh and admired her handiwork.

Most of her triangle was still there, trimmed short, but the area just above her clit, all the way between her legs and back up to her asshole was shaved as smooth as his face. Without ceremony the professor stuck his tongue into her wet pussy. Christina gasped in shock at the sudden intrusion. She tried to squirm away from him, but his hands held her firmly. One of his hands, still entangled in her underwear, held her by the ankle, his fingers pinching it hard. He moved the other hand from where he had held her hip in a bruising grip. His long fingers spread her moistness, reached up to tantalize her clit. He massaged it hard. She lunged forward on the desk, grinding her hips into his mouth.

Christina moved against his mouth and fingers, riding his tongue, feeling it inside her slick entry. Her hands fisted and clutched at the desk, leaving foggy prints on the shiny wood. Shamelessly she bucked against the fingers on her clit and moaned into the blotter. An explosion ripped through her quite unexpectedly. Her hand shot out to grip the edge of the desk and knocked something off. It went crashing to the floor as she arched and grappled and gasped through the climax. She lay limp, panting, still shaking with the smaller ripples of pleasure. Christina closed her eyes as her ears burned with shame. She attempted to push herself up off the desk, but her arms were like jelly.

Little did she know, the professor thought. He straightened, wiping his mouth with her panties before dropping them on the desk next to her face. "Can you smell yourself?" he asked the back of her head. Indeed she could, without much effort. Her scent was ripe in the room. Christina wished the earth would swallow her up

The professor spanked her, hard. The slap stung her ass, the contact exaggerated by the liquid on his fingers. Christina cried out at the unexpected pain. Quickly the professor slid his long fingers inside her wet pussy. Her cry melted into a moan as she was suddenly filled.

Two of his fingers slid in and out of her cunt, strumming her G-spot with each thrust. Christina had barely enough time to relax into that motion before she felt something new. His tongue returned to her pussy, but did not stay there. She held her breath as he licked backwards and soon encountered the sensitive flesh of her asshole. "No," she said aloud, trying to pull away.

The professor pulled away. "Do you really want me to stop?" He moved his fingers inside her and she arched against them. Her breathing quickened. He stopped. Christina gave a tiny moan and moved her hips. Slowly he rubbed her clit with his thumb. She moaned louder. "Do you?"

Christina shook her head.

"I didn't hear an answer," the professor said, withdrawing his fingers.

She whimpered. He moved his hand away.

"Answer me."

"Keep going," she breathed.

Keywords: Christina's, Detention,

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