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Professor's Little Pet Novel Cover

Professor's Little Pet

In a blurring of professional and personal boundaries, Oren Bretton serves as more than just a dedicated academic mentor. While he oversees the development of my final thesis, our relationship evolves into something far more intimate and transgressive. Under his private guidance, I have transitioned from a mere student into the professor's own submissive pet, surrendering myself to his authority both inside and outside the classroom.
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Chapter 8

As he lifted me off his lap and stood up, his gaze never left me. Simply, "Come here," he commanded. I need your assistance in disrobing.

I loosened the buttons and slid the shirt down off his shoulders. Grasping the buckle of his belt, he slid it off, undid the fly, and stepped out of his underwear. He thrust his cock forward, all firm and fine and prepared.

I had to have it again in my mouth; I couldn't help myself. He laughed, and I found myself involuntary licking my lips. Asserting, "Nope," he corrected himself. Respect the rules. Put your hands back on the slats of the bed, and get back on it.

I took my place, glaring angrily at the situation. I longed to run my hands over his physique, to feel the firmness of his muscles and bones. He grinned and winked at my expression of anger, clearly enjoying himself. "The belt isn't far away, Chloe," he warned with a chuckle in his voice. That was a light smack in my book. I think you'll agree that severe punishment isn't what you're after.

Was I wrong to assume that? Perhaps. Maybe not. Yes, I was determined to take advantage of anything and everything he could show me; I was going to put myself entirely in his care and go wherever he led me. I held onto the slats, and he climbed down onto me.

I could hear him muttering, "Such temper, Chloe," as his mouth came down to mine. The pressure of his body on mine caused me to moan, and I opened my mouth wide to receive his marauding tongue. When I leaned over him like a brooding god, his erection bumped against my lower stomach, and I pushed my hips upward into his body, he took everything I had to give.

He stopped kissing me and moved his mouth lower, propping himself up with one hand while cupping a breast with the other. His lips and teeth descended on my nipple, sucking and biting in a way that made me delirious with desire. Moaning, I tried to stuff more of my breast into his mouth.

He growled, "Stay still," and then nipped my nipple to emphasize his point. A mild ache turned into a rush of pleasure, and I hissed in gratified lust as water rushed over my pussy.

Softly, "please," I pleaded.

Chloe, what are you looking for? He turned his head toward me and stared intently, holding me to an absolute truth with his eyes.

I turned red and begged him to mark my body, saying, "Bite it again." He gave me a reawakening jolt of lust as he smiled and complied. His mouth shifted to my other nipple and began nibbling, biting, and expertly bringing me to the brink of pleasure and holding me there.

The name "Professor Bretton" brought a groan from me. I wanted to feel him inside of me, wherever that might be: pussy, ass, or wherever. You're really putting the hurt on me.

He released his grip on my breast and moved his hand to the nightstand. A tube was being squeezed, and I could hear the drawer open and close. Hopefully, lube.

As he straightened, his hands moved down to my thighs and began to part my legs. He brushed past my pussy, went down, and found my puckered hole. His finger traced a tight circle around my bud, then pushed the lube into me as he stretched me out, added another finger, and wriggled them both into me.

For some reason, I let out a groan. Deeper inside of me, I needed him. For more depth, I pleaded. To quote Professor Bretton: "Please..."

The man slapped my thigh. He commanded, "Get on your hands and knees, Chloe." I immediately complied, releasing my grip on the slats and turning around so that my posterior was staring directly at Oren. He sat back and stared at me.

He told me to lay my head and shoulders down on the pillow. I buried my posterior in the pillow and raised my rear even further off the ground.

Nice, he remarked in a positive tone. Huskily he asked, "Do you know how wet you are, Chloe?" Your clothes are drenched. Can I get a reaction from you by putting my fingers in your a-ss? Is it exciting for you that I'm going to take you there? Drive my s*it up your a** and make you beg for more.

His words caused a tightening of every muscle in my body and a tingling of every nerve ending. I said, "Yes, Professor Bretton," with a red face and the relief that came from knowing my head was buried in a pillow.

He commanded, "Put your hands behind your back." Cut your cheeks open. Put your cute little a** in the spotlight.

For some reason, I let out a groan. Lust and shame swirled together as I obeyed, and my pussy gushed at the thought of what he was making me do.

"Such a good girl, Chloe," he said as I parted my ass cheeks; exposed myself to his gaze. "Here's what you are going to do next," he ordered. "Put both your thumbs in your ass."

I stiffened. Surely he wasn't going to make me do this.

"Do it now, Chloe." His voice had hardened. I whimpered, but complied.

I felt opened, exposed, completely without defences as I hooked my thumbs in my asshole, and opened myself before his gaze. As I opened myself, I could feel his fingers dance with mine; he added some more lube to my anal passage as I held myself open for him. I groaned in sheer lust; the illicit shame of what I was doing forgotten in the wake of overwhelming arousal and fevered need. Then I felt his hands clamp on my thighs, and his mouth was tracing a circle over my asshole, lavishing both the asshole and the thumbs holding it open with attention, flicking in me in a way that had me creaming and moaning and thrusting into him.

Again and again his tongue stroked my bud, and it felt like sin. The sweetest kind of sin.

I could hear a condom wrapper tear, and then he moved close to me. His hands touched my ass, stroked my cheeks and spanked them; his lips reached forward and kissed me where his hands had struck. Aching pleasure bloomed all over me. He moved his hands, hooked his fingers over my thumbs, eased them out of my ass. He held my hands in the shelter of his palms as he moved forward into me, positioned the head of his cock at my clenching opening. I stiffened up involuntarily.

Smack. A firm stroke on my backside. "Relax, Chloe," was his swift rebuke. Then his voice gentled. "I'm just going to stay here, Chloe. You decide when you are ready to push back into me, okay?" He freed one hand from mine, wrapped it around my hip and touched my clitoris with the softest of touches; the gentlest of rubs.

I groaned, as a haze filled my mind. His touch was feather-light, he was refusing to stroke me hard, set up any kind of rhythm. For that, I would have to push back into his body, let his cock plunder my ass.

I wanted this. I knew I did, and he knew it too; my pussy had never been wetter. Perhaps it was the prospect of pain; perhaps it was because him taking me this way, with me on my knees, face buried in the bed was the most dominant of positions; but I was dangerously ready to push back into him.

His fingers stroked my clitoris slightly harder, and that was all it took. I pushed back, wincing at the sudden pain as my ass yielded to the head of his cock, and it was stretching me; stretching me painfully, and then his head was inside me.

"Good girl," he said quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. This had to be difficult for him, but he didn't push the rest of his length into me, he waited till I was ready; till I pushed back again into him, and with a feeling of complete fullness, he was buried all the way in my behind.

His fingers set a rhythm now on my clitoris, my reward for taking his length in me. "Do you want to come?" he asked me.

"Yes, Professor Bretton," I begged. I needed his fingers to take me to orgasm.

"Start moving against me when you are ready," he ordered, but despite the order, he was being kind, waiting for me to be comfortable before he started thrusting in me.

My hand gripped his as I rocked my hips, caused his cock to move in me. Heat was trickling through my body, and not just because of his fingers on my clitoris. No, the widening of my anal passage, the yielding of my muscles to his cock, these were all sending tremors of lust through my body. I could feel him slide in me, thick and hard; I could feel him leave my ass entirely, only to thrust back inside, imposing his will on my tight asshole, and finally, he took control and set the pace.

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