Teacher's Toy (Loftry University Playthings 1)

Ignoring her words but filing them away for future knowledge, I glance over at the packages. "Did Christmas come early?"

Bethany sets her mouth in a grim line. "It sure looks like it, but next time I'd prefer if Professor Richards gets one of the muscle men to deliver it up. Thank God you're on the first floor. If you were any higher, I'd take a punishment to avoid hefting all this."

Butterflies flutter about in my stomach. What could possibly be in all of these? I tackle the box nearest to me, shocked to find all sorts of lingerie and frilly underwear. Definitely not my normal style. Glancing over at the dresser that houses my only two acceptable pairs, my lips twist up in a rueful smile. That's probably the point in all of this. He wants to see me in his style. That stupid blush starts creeping back up at the thought of him looking at me, inspecting me. After last night, nothing should shock me, but it seems like I still want to hang onto a tiny shred of innocence.

"Well then, I'm going to leave you to it. Word of advice put up every box or bag as you get to it. Your room needs to stay spotless." Blowing a kiss, Bethany skips out of the room, leaving me with this mountain of stuff.

A small noise snaps me out of my musing. Glancing over into the hall, Chelsea looks at all the packages, her lips twisting up into a sneer. With one last glance, she also leaves. Sighing, I wade my way through and close the door. I already have enough to do without worrying about everyone else butting in. My phone blinks on my bed, and I drop my sheet to make my way over and double-check that my alarm is set, then get back to work.

Everything is put up, and all the bags and boxes are stuffed into each other as best as I can manage; I'll have to remind myself to ask Bethany how we get rid of trash around here. Knowing her, she'll say that trash isn't allowed. Rolling my eyes, I take in the mostly spotless room and sigh. If only my parents can see me now. How many times did mom fuss at me for my mess? Looks like having an owner comes with more perks than originally said. My alarm sounds, and I turn it off and head to the shower. If I plan everything right, I'll have enough time to shower, dress, and get over there with a few minutes to spare.

Lucky for me, I'm able to leave early. The line for the other professors chokes the hallways, making me feel like salmon swimming upstream. But after several moments of shoving and squeezing, I see his door plaque. Five minutes to spare. Should I knock and let him know I'm early? Or sit out here and wait for him to come to me? I'm so unsure right now, but I take the chance and knock on the door. Professor Richards throws it open and pins me with an intense stare. My breath catches in my throat as I peer up into his smokey depths. Some part of me thought he'd be through with me after last night. Knowing he's as strong and intense as before eases the band constricting around my heart. I let my breath go in a whoosh and follow him into his office.

"How are you feeling?" He leans against the desk and looks me up and down, his gaze lingering on my crotch.

I swallow, willing my face not to heat up. Knowing I'm going to lose, I turn away and look over at the floor. "I’m tired, but not too bad."

"Turn around," he grumbles, pushing off of the desk and stalking towards me.

Turning, I clench my hands at my side, willing my body to be still. His strong fingers skim up the backs of my thighs, startling me forward. With his free hand, he winds his arm about my waist and holds me steady. His breath is hot against my skin as he inches agonizingly slow up my thighs. As he reaches my ass, he stops for a moment before sliding a finger underneath the back of my thong, pulling it towards him, then releasing it to smack against my skin.

"You look delicious in the clothes I bought you." Pushing me away a bit, he turns me in his arms to look me up and down.

I attempt to tug down the short skirt, feeling very exposed to his graze, but he grabs my hands and puts them up on top of my head. I hold them there, trying to keep still as he fingers the buttons on my shirt. One by one, he pops them open, leaving me open to his hungry gaze. Once my whole shirt is unbuttoned, he pulls it out of my skirt and pushes it to the side. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he circles the pad of his finger around my nipple, causing it to poke out against the lace. The stiff material abrades my skin, but he ignores me and starts a seductive rhythm of circling and tugging. Arousal pools low and dampens my panties. I squirm, arousal and discomfort warring in my brain. No matter what he does, I don't think I'll ever get used to this much attention. It's almost too much for me. Already my face is radiating heat, but his fingers never falter.

"Are you wet for me, Mouse?"

The groan in his voice is my undoing. Shifting my legs apart, I look up at him, begging him to see for himself. With a smirk, he leaves my chest and travels back down to the gusset of my panties.

"Oh my. Indeed, you are."

I lean into his touch, grateful for the relief flowing through me. He strokes my clit a few times through the wet material before pulling back and heading to his desk.

"Now, about that test, you have to make up."

I blanch, taking my hands down from my head.

"Did I say you can move?"

They jump back up into place, and I shake my head.

"You will use your words with me, Mouse. I'll no longer let you hide behind head motions." He shuffles some papers at his desk, completely ignoring me.

"No, Sir. You didn't say I could move."

"Good girl. Next time wait for my instructions. Think of this as an adult version of Simon Says." He glances up, humor dancing in his eyes. "Or in this case, Master Says. If Master doesn't say, you don't act. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Sir," I breathe, trying to keep my body as still as possible. Arousal throbs through me, making it difficult not to squirm.

Pulling out a set of papers, he tosses them to the edge of his desk. "Do you know what this is?"

I glance down at it, my heart plummeting. "It's the test I cheated on," I whisper.

"Exactly so. And do you know how many questions are on here?"

Biting down on my lower lips, I rack my brain, trying to think. It shouldn't be this hard. The bloody test was yesterday. "I think you stopped me at thirty-four?"

He picks it up and flips through it. "Thirty-nine. Close enough." The papers fall back to the desk with a hard plop. "Not including the essay questions, the test in total was sixty questions long." His long fingers slide my test off to the side of his desk and into the trashcan before pulling out another stack and placing it on his desk. "I want you to stand here at my desk with your hands on either side of the test."

I walk over to him, processing his words. Leaning down, I place my hands on the desk, keeping the test as centered as I can between them. He makes his way back around and tugs at my hips until I'm leaning over, almost bent completely at the waist. Craning my neck over my shoulder, I watch him as he makes his way to the armoire. Moisture drains from my mouth. Dean Anderson's looked similar and housed that horrible paddle. What does Professor Richards’ contain?

"Eyes on the test. I don't want you moving from that position. Trust me, you won't want to defy me on this."

My body trembles at his words. My core clenches in need even as fear zips down my spine. What the hell is wrong with me? Looking down, I skim over the first page. It's the same test, but it's the teacher's copy with all the answers. Professor Richard slides up next to me and places a long rod on the desk. It looks remarkably similar to the ones I saw in the drawer. My heart stutters for a moment as my arousal drips down. With a smooth motion, he flips my skirt over my hips to rest against my low back. Next, he curls his fingers around my thong and slides them down towards my ankles.

"Spread your legs so that there's tension in the underwear."

With his help, I slide my feet apart. In order to keep this pose, I wind up leaning down even further. My ass sticks out behind me, and every inch feels completely exposed. Groaning, I try to ignore the cool air licking against my skin, especially with how wet I am. Every eddy of air sends a shaft of pleasure through me. I sense Professor Richards moving behind me after he steps back away from the desk. He must be kneeling down because soon, I feel a stream of breath along my lower lips. I grip at the desk, willing myself not to move. His body shifts backward, and I flush hard, just imagining him back there staring at my intimate parts.

"You've already been punished by Dean Anderson in his office yesterday and by me at the initiation," he whispers against my skin, planting small, chaste kisses to the backs of my thighs and up my ass. "So, don't think about this as punishment. Instead, I want you to think of this as a study aid to ensure you remember this for your next exam."

His lips skim the crevice of my ass as he makes his way down to my core. My entire body lurches forward as his tongue outlines the shell of my lips. His hand slaps against my ass, the loud crack filling the room. Right. Don't move. He continues his quest around my body, utilizing his lips and tongue to drive me wild. I grip and claw at the desk, trying desperately to hold the position. However, inevitably, I'd shift, and his hand smacks me back into position. Groaning, I hang my head, trying to study the words, but all they do is swim about. My body quivers with need, but thankfully that doesn't count as me moving. I'd be dead by now if it did.

After several agonizing minutes, he pulls back and stands next to me again. "Just because this isn't a punishment doesn't mean I will not hold you to my standards. What I'm about to do to you will hurt you. You may move if you need to, but you will get back into this position as soon as you can. I will not tolerate any dancing around, reaching back, or any of that nonsense. Any outbursts like that, and we will start from the beginning. I have no problem letting my aid take over my classes today if that's what's needed to drive these lessons home. In essence, I have all day." He grips the back of my neck, laying my cheek against the cool wood of his desk. "I also have the added bonus that you are mine." His grip tightens even more. "What doesn't get finished today can most certainly be continued at my home or your dorm room."