Pleasures of Continuing Education

Rules were very important to her. Rules about eating. Rules about time management. Rules about messing around. She'd lived her whole life by her rules, and it kept her happy. It'd been awhile since she'd had anyone else play by her rules though; she was getting frisky. That's why she'd texted him, "Are you in town this weekend?" He knew her rules. He liked her rules, and right now he was the only man she knew who could satiate her desires. As soon as he received her text, he called her—as she knew he would—to find out how serious she was. "I don't want to have sex," she told him, "I just want to fool around a bit." Luckily for her, he didn't mind the restriction. Most men would. She filled him in on the rest of her idea, and she was already imagining them carrying it out. He found the idea entertaining and agreed to take the time to meet up with her. She was thrilled. They hung up, and all that was left for her to do was chomp at the bit til Friday night came.

The five days between their phone call and their meeting were agonizing for her. Every spare—and several not-so-spare—moments she had in the interim were dedicated to envisioning how her plan would go. She'd been a wet mess all week, although most people who ran into her said she seemed exceptionally happy. Finally, the appointed day arrived, and even though all she wanted to do was take a personal day at work, she forced herself to keep her mind on her job no matter how difficult. It was one of the rules. She got off work at five and had enough time to run home and change before meeting him at nine-thirty. She'd already picked out her outfit; something she was sure he'd approve of as well as help facilitate her plan.

By the time she pulled into the parking lot of her alma mater's library, it was nine thirty-five. Finding her heels had made her run a little late, but she was okay with it. It would only make things so much better. Her short black and grey kilt bounced with every step she took just like her long red hair, while her white men's dress shirt was buttoned "just so" so that while she was completely covered, he'd still have a more than satisfactory view of her pert, milky white breasts. She looked much like any college student ready for a night out, running by the library to pick up a friend before hitting the bars. No one would suspect she'd graduated five years earlier.

She walked through the lobby to the elevator bank, and had to force herself not to break into a run. Restricting things made it that much better, she reminded herself, although this close to the brink, she didn't care. While she knew the ride up to the third floor took less than a minute, it seemed like an eternity because she knew once she walked off the elevator, she was committed. It was another one of the rules. She knew exactly where she'd find him. He was in the special collection in a hidden away back corner by the graduate corrals—a position that would leave them physically obscured on two sides with the large bay windows on two sides, although that second part didn't bother her. It wasn't like anyone would be able to see in on them.

When she finally rounded the corner to where he sat, she stopped: both so that he could look at her, but also so that she could stare at him. She'd forgotten how much he made her mouth water and her legs quiver. The look in his eyes told her he appreciated the outfit, and that she'd been a bad little girl to keep him waiting when she was looking like that. Once she was out of her momentary sex haze, she noted that he'd secured a chair without arms—something she greatly appreciated.

"Hey," he whispered in a voice that promised to suck hot fudge off her nipples.

"Hey yourself," she answered a little more brightly, aiming for innocently coquettish.

"Thanks for agreeing to look over my paper for class. Your editing on the last one is probably the only reason I got a B." He was playing his part well, dangerous without being threatening like black leather and high heels. She pretended to glance around looking for a chair, "Ummmm, where can I sit?"

He spread his legs leaving part of the seat in front of him open. "You can sit here," he said, motioning to the space. "I'm not so sure..."she feigned.

"Really, it'll be perfect. That way I'll actually be able to see everything you're doing while you're editing, so maybe I'll pick up a thing or two." He sold her, like they both knew he would.

She sat down rather gingerly and started a bit when her naked ass felt the cold wood of the chair. In shivering, she'd made sure to rub against him a little bit—not enough to make it obvious, but enough to let him know to continue. Once she was seated, she inconspicuously scooted her ass closer to his crotch as she leaned closer to the desk focusing on his laptop. In doing so, she'd also let her legs fall open a little bit, hooking her ankles around the chair legs for support. She knew her position made things awkward for him. If he just sat straight up, he couldn't see what she was doing on his laptop, but if he leaned closer to the laptop like her, he had few places to put his hands. Decisions, decisions.

She knew there wasn't really a choice for him, but she was curious to see how much he'd drag it out, make her think he'd changed his mind and wasn't going to go through with it. He didn't leave her in suspense long though, which thrilled her. He leaned almost parallel to her back resting one elbow on the desk turning his back to what little of the room they were exposed to, and let his other hand rest lightly on her leg. She ignored the way his hand sent fire straight up her leg instantly turning her pussy into molten gold. She knew from experience that if she tried to rush him, he'd make her wait that much longer. That was one of his rules.

Looking at the laptop screen, she noticed he actually had a paper of his from high school days up on the screen, so she began reading it. Once he realized her focus was on his paper and not on his hand, that's when he allowed it to creep higher and higher up her leg. He could feel how tense she was, reining in her lust, trying not to rush him. He loved that he could make her like this. He loved making her admit he could make her like this.

Simultaneously moving his mouth closer to her ear and his hand further up her thigh, toying with the edge of her skirt, he whispered, "So, you planning on going out later?" She swept her hair to the side, away from his mouth before whispering back, "No, why?" Leaning in even closer to her, his hot breath tickling the hairs on her neck causing her to shiver, he responded, "Because that's some outfit for someone just planning a night at the library." His voice began taking on that darker edge that she loved so much, the one that told her she'd been very very very naughty, and now she'd been caught. "I didn't even think about it, really. I just grabbed whatever was clean," she told him even though the smell of her lie was almost as potent to him as the smell of her lust.

As he thought about what she'd said, he had an idea, a perfect segue into her plan. With that, he let his hand find its way under her skirt to where he'd expected to find her thong; however, she surprised him. There was nothing. Never in all the times they'd had their little arrangement had she ever gone commando, no matter how many skirts she'd worn, or how many times he'd begged. He was stunned. The brazenness of it, especially with the shortness of the skirt. It mystified him that he hadn't noticed it from where he'd been sitting when she walked up to him. "Didn't have anything clean?" he mused, practically growling in her ear.

She'd known he would've liked that little treat, but his response left her mute. All she could do was mutter a glassy "mmhmm" while gently rolling her back against his chest. She knew she couldn't force him to speed things up, but the feel of his fingers just resting against her folds, lightly tapping out a pensive rhythm was driving her nuts. When he finally stopped tapping on her pussy, his voice had taken on a feral tone. "Someone's been an extremely naughty girl. Do you know why?" All she could do was shake her head, brushing her hair against his chest due to their proximity. "Because only naughty little girls dirty their clothes and then forget to have clean ones around. Did you think this would please me? Having a dirty little girl work for me?"

He paused expectantly, and she forced herself to answer him, even though her voice was a breathy whisper. "I didn't even think about it. I'm sorry." With that, he moved his hand down her thigh toward her knee. "So now you're thoughtless as well? Well, what use are you to me? A thoughtless girl editing my paper might just as well earn me an F as well as a B." The harshness in his whisper, made her whimper both in delight at the sound of it as well as with fear that he'd remove his hand from her leg although. "Please," she pleaded breathily, "how can I prove I can still be useful to you? That this was merely a mistake."

He thought for a minute, but in her hideous ecstasy it seemed like hours. Finally, she felt his hand slide back under her skirt and gently trace the outside of her labia. She shuddered. "Prove to me that you can still work well while distracted. If I'm impressed, then we'll see." With that, he slid one roughened finger between her folds. She bit her lip hard, enjoying the sting when all she wanted to really do was moan at how good his hand felt. From her profile, he could watch her worrying her lip, but he wanted to push her limits, see how good she really was; see if he could break her. He began kissing her neck lightly, every now and then glancing up to watch her glazing eyes trying desperately to keep reading the screen in front of her.

As his lips approached her ear, he whispered, "Unbutton your shirt some more. I might want to play with your tits." Dazedly, she complied, fumbling with some of the buttons as she awkwardly undressed herself with one hand. When her shirt opened wide enough to expose her shoulders, he had her stop. He knew how sensitive her collar bone was, and he was determined to get her to beg before the night was through. His finger had been lazily stroking her the whole time he'd been tormenting her with his lips. He wanted to drag it out, so his finger had been more to comfort her than to get her off. After their first time together, he'd learned that he could make her wetter with a look than most men could with hours of foreplay. It was something he loved because it meant that on days he felt like being rough and wild from the get-go, he could without as much worry about hurting her. Sometimes, he thought she liked those days best.

As he pushed a second finger into her pussy, he noticed she no longer seemed to be reading—her closed eyes being the biggest clue. Using the arm he'd been leaning on, he pulled her hair roughly so she'd open her eyes; however, he continued to lazily stroke her pussy using his two calloused fingers. "Are you tired? Do you need me to stop?" he half threatened. She was beyond caring about the pretext anymore, all she wanted was for him to make her cum, but her foggy brain knew that wouldn't happen if he stopped his delicious torture. She forced herself to answer him. "No," she moaned, "please don't stop." She dragged out her words as if her brain needed the extra time to form the next word. He loved hearing her when she got like this. She was putty in his hands. "Well, I don't see a reason for me to continue. You've proven you can't work under pressure."

She knew she couldn't let him stop, so she tried convincing him otherwise. "Please," she tried again, "please, don't stop. Please just let me cum for you."

"What good would that do for me?" he taunted. Her brain couldn't figure out his logic, it was so caught up in its own lustful need, so instead, she tried begging again. "Please, please let me cum for you. I promise I'll be good." He held her glassy gaze for a minute, tormenting her with his silence and his fingers, before finally responding. "Only wet little sluts would want someone to fuck them in a library, where anyone walking by could see. Where anyone sitting down could hear. Are you a wet little slut? Is that what you're saying?"

To accent his point, and test her resolve not to scream, he let his thumb ever so gently brush her clit. Her response was instantaneous as she jerked sharply against his hand. At that point, the only thing her brain was registering was its need for her to get off, whether it be by his hand, his dick or some inanimate object, she needed to be fucked, whatever it took. She started whispering frantically, "Yes, I am a wet little slut. I'm your wet little slut. Only yours. Please, please let me show you how well I can cum for you. Only for you." His slow, relentless stroking didn't change nor did he touch her clit again. He knew he had all the time in the world, while she was dying. "You're my little wet slut, are you? Well, if that's the case, that makes me your master, doesn't it? In which case, you need to learn to speak to me more respectfully, don't you?" With that, he abruptly removed his fingers from her pussy.

She let out a garbled noise of protest at the loss of his ministrations, but knew it would get her nowhere. She needed to play by his rules much as he played by hers. "Master?" she tried tentatively.

"Yes, slut?" he replied, caught somewhere between derisive and indulgent.

"Please, Master, how can your wet slut please you, so you'll let her cum?" she asked as meekly as she could manage.

"After all of the things you've done to displease me already, why do you think I'll let you cum at all? Do you think you deserve to cum?" his voice got darker with every word, and the way he whispered it harshly against her ear only made her wetter. Driven on by her throbbing pussy, she was determined to do whatever he said, if only he'd promise to get her off. "Please, Master, I beg you. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you."

He thought for a moment, mulling over all the things he could make her do. Finally, an idea came to him. "Slut, I want you to remove your bra. Unbutton your shirt all the way, but leave it on. Then sit on the desk facing me with your feet resting on the edge of the desk. Do not obscure my view of your tits though." She thought for the briefest moment about what he was asking. Sitting half naked on the desk would leave her flashing anyone who happened to look down the row, while sitting butterflied on the desk would leave her completely exposed to him. Even though the thought terrified her, the larger part of her knew she'd do anything he asked so long as he'd keep touching her. Slowly, she unbuttoned the rest of her shirt and removed her bra before carefully moving his laptop and perching on the desk. As she went to sit on the desk, she noticed him look approvingly at the large wet spot she'd left on the chair.

He always knew he got her turned on; she'd never been coy about it, but he'd never known just how much of a sopping mess she was. Part of him cursed for agreeing to her "no sex" clause because knowing how hot and moist her pussy was and how rock hard his dick was only made him want to fuck her six ways into next month right there on the desk. A small voice wondered in the back of his mind if maybe she'd relent, and let him fuck her anyway, if he got her turned on enough. He hadn't thought his dick could get any harder, but the thought of getting her to break her rules had a lot of appeal to him, so much so that if he didn't find some kind of relief soon, he might be limping for a while. "

Slut," he ordered, "what're you doing sitting like that? What good are your tits to me if they're so far away? Keep your legs where they are, but bring your tits closer." She complied readily, although she had to stifle more moans as she realized the position stretched her pussy allowing more of the cold library air to circulate through her passage. He didn't give her long to think about her airy pussy though because as soon as her taut pink nipples were close enough, he latched on to one while simultaneously pinching the other.

His ministrations had her pussy thrumming like she was sitting on a bass amp; she thought she would die unless he would give her the exquisite relief only his skillful body could provide. He ignored the unspoken desires of her body though, and merely began nibbling and biting her breasts and her nipples one minute, then laving them with his tongue the next. Although he had not told her to remain silent, she knew better than to speak without being spoken to first; however, her silence did not satisfy him. He wanted to hear her whimpering and begging. Latching on to her left nipple, he began sucking on it hard and fast to make it as tight as he could. Then, when he was satisfied with his efforts, he began worrying her sensitive bud with his teeth. As he expected, her control broke. "Ah!" she squeaked. He continued on, determined to break her; he didn't have to wait long. "Master," she moaned, "please. I beg you. I need you to let me cum. I'm such a horny, wet little slut, sir. I need to get off for you. To show you how good I can be for you."

"How good you can be for me?" he sneered. "What does that even mean?"

"Let me show you how tight I can close for you, Master. I'm practically virgin-tight, sir. Please, let me cum. Let me show you."

Her begging pleased him, but unless she was willing to even possibly consider fucking him, he would just continue to torture her until he was sure there was no hope—only then would he cave. "If my dick isn't inside you, stretching you like the good little whore you claim to be, then what use of it is to me how tight you are?" he goaded her, hoping her desperation might make her relent. "Please, Master, I need to cum for you. You're the only one who can get me this hot and wet. Please let me have release." She was practically crying from her need, but still, he wouldn't let up. "Do you want me to fuck you, slut? Is that how you want to cum? My dick buried deep in your slick, tight little cunt, pounding you within an inch of your life? Is that how my little slut puppy wants to get off?" He'd been watching her face the whole time he spoke, wanting to see if he could notice any little signs of caving; however, the only thing her face showed was her frustration. He knew the feeling.

In the back of her mind, she knew he was pushing her boundaries. Sleeping with him would make things easier in some ways, but in others...Well, it just wasn't the day for those avenues. Still, she could well remember the feel of him inside her; the way his dick seemed like the most natural fit her pussy had ever found. She loved being on top of him, teasing him with her slow pace until finally his frustration would win out and he'd take over at such a breakneck speed she wondered she didn't crack in half. His mouth was almost as delicious as his dick and his hands. The way he'd burrow his face in her pussy using his whole mouth to fuck her was sin unto itself, not to mention, he loved having her lick her arousal off his face afterwards. Part of her wished he hadn't given her the option because as much as she didn't want to take it, an equally large part of her couldn't understand why his dick wasn't already inside her. That part of her wished she'd picked someplace where he could've tied her down, just so that the choice didn't necessarily have to be one hundred percent hers. She needed to figure out how to get him to finger fuck her soon, or she might not be able to control herself. "Master, please finger fuck me. I'm not worthy of having your dick inside me, but you're the only one who can bring me release. Please let me get off, I beg you." The pleading tone in her voice almost left him wavering, but he knew better. He decided to try another tactic. "Why're you still sitting like that on the desk? Do you think having your pussy in my face pleases me? Get down!" Her legs ached and her knees were sore from having sat in the unusual position so long, but she tried to comply with his wishes as quickly as possible. He hadn't told her whether to sit or stand, so she decided to be safe and remained standing in front of him. The quickness of her response pleased him, although he knew better than to tell her that. Right now, all he needed to worry about was trying to convince her to fuck him. While he'd been watching her beg, the idea had come to him that maybe her resistance would be weakened by proximity, hence his new plan.