Samantha Comes To Office Hours

Author's note: This story is a continuation of "Samantha Provokes her Professor" which is accessible through my profile. I believe, nevertheless, that it can be enjoyed without any prior knowledge of the first installment.

Living and working in a small college town is great. The only problem is, everyone knows everyone else, and so everyone talks about everyone else. To make matters worse, not only was the town small, the department was small as well.

Even though we were quite large for a French department, it wasn't as if we had so many professors that I just disappeared into the crowd, the way I might have at a larger school. I mention all of this because in the week after Samantha (my 24 year-old graduate student) and I had our encounter on the stairs, I could tell that people were acting differently around me.

When I went into the copy room to make photocopies, two of the male grad students abruptly stopped talking and turned to look at me. I couldn't be sure, but I felt I saw a look of envy in their eyes, and not only because of my status as a professor. Could they possibly know about Samantha and me?

Later, at a local coffee shop where I would often go to work, the barista winked at me and almost started giggling when she handed me my drink.

I'm not an idiot. I know that I'm relatively attractive, and being a professor adds a lot to my sex appeal, especially with some women. But it was clear that something else was going on.

The next morning, when Sophie Bettencourt, the department chair, walked into my office without knocking and closed the door behind her, I had a feeling I was going to find out just what people were talking about.

"I thought I made myself clear last time," she began, folding her arms defensively and peering down at me where I sat at my desk.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"The department bathroom is shared with students, as you know," said Sophie, "and once and a while one of us professors hears something that we should probably pretend we didn't hear."

"So why don't you pretend you didn't hear it?"

"Because everyone else seems to have heard something like it as well!" she snapped.

"Well, what did you hear?"

"As if you don't know."

I decided to play dumb.

"Is this about the pictures and stuff that Samantha sent me?"

"You're on the right track."

I was getting exasperated with her roundabout manner.

"Look," I said, "I've done nothing wrong. You transferred her out of my class. What happens between us in private is our business."

"But I'm not even talking about Samantha!" she said, "though you're giving me some very interesting information right now."

I winced. I had inadvertently confessed to having a relationship with Samantha.

"What I'm referring to," she continued, "is the rumor that this isn't the first time that this has happened between you and a student."

"I assure you it is. I'm trying to make tenure," I snapped, "do you think I am so reckless, or even have enough free time on my hands to start affairs with students?"

"I'm just reporting what I heard," said Sophie, her eyes conveying a look of amusement, "and by the way, the woman who reported it provided several anatomical details that gave credence to her story."

"What kind of details?"

"Are you well-endowed, Prof. Carver?"

I looked at her silently.

"Do you curve straight upward, are you circumcised, and do you have a penchant for spanking women with your belt?"

I turned beet red.

"Finally, do you have a large mole on your left inner thigh?"

I started to stammer out a response, but couldn't form the words.

"That's what I thought."

Sophie turned and reached for the doorknob.

"Details like that can't be invented."

After opening the door, she looked back at me and added:

"You also have the reputation of being quite the lover. The woman who was talking about you said she came at least a dozen times."

She smirked at me, enjoying my embarrassment at exploits I hadn't even been responsible for.

"Just make sure to keep it in your pants around the department, or I'll be forced to report you to the faculty disciplinary committee. I'm watching you."

I nodded feebly as she closed my office door behind her.

Someone had been spreading rumors about me! Positive rumors in a certain sense (what man wouldn't like the reputation of being a well-endowed, expert lover?) but at the same time potentially damaging rumors.

While the details about my prowess as a lover and large penis could have easily been the products of fantasy, there were only a few women in the world who could have known about the large mole on my inner thigh.

None of my previous girlfriends had any reason to spread rumors about me, either positive or negative ones – I was on decent terms with all of them, but they were no longer really involved in my life. It had to have been Samantha. But why was she doing it?

It was time once again for my office hours, so I opened my door and began correcting essay exams. It was one of my least favorite tasks, but one that seemed to never end. After a few minutes, I heard a faint knock at the door, and looked up to see Lisa, the clueless freshman who frequented my office hours.

"Hi Lisa!" I said, finding myself strangely happy to see someone like her who was almost certainly not plugged into the gossip circuit, "what can I help you with today?"

But to my surprise, instead of her usual deer-in-the-headlights gaze, she smiled at me, then suppressed a giggle.

"Hi Professor Carver," she said, "No questions today, I just wanted to come by and say hello."

She paused and looked down for a moment, twirling her hair almost coquettishly.

"Hello."

She was quiet for a moment, then giggled again and blushed deeply.

"Lisa," I asked, "is something the matter?"

"No, Professor Carver," she mumbled, still bright red.

"Lisa, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Professor Carver."

"Have you been hearing rumors about me?"

She turned an even deeper shade of red and looked straight at the floor.

"Umm...yeah."

"Do you mind telling me what you've heard? I know there're some wild things going around about me."

"I'm too embarrassed to say."

She seemed so worked up that her embarrassment could have been mistaken for arousal.

"You can trust me, Lisa."

"Well –" her eyes were still fixed on the floor, "I heard a girl in the bathroom say that you gave her a spanking,"

"Oh?"

"And that she liked it."

"Thanks for telling me. I assure you that that story is entirely untrue. Did you see what the girl looked like?"

"She was in a stall next to me, talking to someone else."

"So you didn't see her at all?"

"Not really. When I came out of the stall she was leaving."

"So you saw her go? What did she look like from behind?"

"Well," she said, less embarrassed now, "I'm not sure if it was the same girl, but one of them was short with dark hair and had a tattoo on her lower back."

Just as I suspected. It had to be Samantha.

"Thanks for telling me about this, Lisa. I've got to get back to work now."

"No problem, Professor Carver," she looked up at me and smiled, her face still flushed. Then she turned and walked back down the hall.

So it was Samantha who had been spreading rumors about me – probably to provoke me into taking her in hand again, I thought. Well if that's what she wanted, I was going to find a way to give it to her. But not in the department again – at least not during school hours.

I needed to get a message to her, to arrange a meeting, but I couldn't leave a trail of any kind. That meant that e-mail and phone were both out. What could I do? Go to her apartment? That could really get me in trouble.

As it turned out, I didn't have to worry. When I went to my car that evening after working for several hours, there was a sealed envelope under my windshield wiper. I picked it up and opened it as I stood in the parking garage, and read it with my heart pounding.

"Dear Professor Carver," it began, "I guess you know that I just couldn't keep my mouth shut about our little encounter on the stairs. I'm sure you've been getting a lot of attention lately! I just had to tell the other girls about how good you were at keeping your slutty student in line.

I may have embellished a few details, but I'm sure you'll forgive me, right? If not, I guess you'll have to punish me first. Anyway, I suggest we have a late-night office hour tomorrow night. I'll wait until the janitors are done with our floor, then come and find you in your office. What happens after that I leave entirely up to you, Professor.

Love, Samantha."

I crumpled the note and shoved it into the pocket of my sport coat, then got in the car and drove home, where I turned on my computer and immediately loaded the picture Samantha had sent me a while back and masturbated furiously into a wad of Kleenex while staring at the image of the 24-year-old grad student on her knees with "Prof. Carver's Slut" written in black marker across her chest. I knew I was going to be quite distracted the next day.

I got to the office early the next morning, having been all but unable to sleep the night before. I still wasn't sure how I was going to handle Samantha, but I knew I had to make it clear to her that her behavior was unacceptable.

At the same time, I knew that she was once again provoking me into punishing her and using her like a slut, and I had to admit that I liked it. Maybe we could reach some kind of agreement, of the type that wouldn't end my career. I hoped so.

It seemed like the end of the day would never come. I taught my seminar as usual (the one that Samantha had been removed from), then worked on articles and grading until five or so, when I went to the faculty lounge to reheat the leftovers I had brought from home for dinner.

One of my colleagues, Professor Fournier, a man in his late fifties who had been one of my mentors, winked at me and gave me a smile as he looked up from his reading.

"I know it's tempting," he said in his broad Parisian accent, "but you've got to watch yourself, Alec. The game you're playing can get you into big trouble. I speak from experience. Years of it."

He flashed me a big, toothy grin, then gave me a wave and left the lounge before I had a chance to respond. Had absolutely everyone heard the rumors?

Back in my office I nervously passed the time until around seven, when I knew the custodial workers would be finished cleaning the bathrooms and offices on our floor.

Right after I heard the custodians push their carts into the elevator door and make their way to the next level, the door to the stairwell opened, and the sound of clinking heels echoed down the hallway. I sat back in my chair and nervously awaited Samantha's appearance.

To my surprise, the footsteps stopped – but not in front of my office door, rather further down the hall somewhere. I sat up straight and listened.

I heard a key turn in a lock, and an office door open, then close. I got up from my desk and looked down the hall and saw a strip of shadow crossing the bottom of Professor Bettencourt's door.

I cursed under my breath. Just then, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"I guess we'll just have to be extra quiet, Professor Carver," came a whisper from behind me.

It was Samantha, even more petite than usual because she was holding her shoes in her hands to keep from making noise on the tiled floors.

"You scared me," I whispered, "get in my office."

I shooed her into the office and closed the door behind us as gently and quietly as I could. My heart was pounding. I knew we could not be caught under any circumstances. At the same time, I had a raging hard-on asserting itself through the fabric of the dress pants I was wearing. It was beginning to be quite painful.

As if reading my mind, Samantha dropped to her knees in front of me and began to unzip my pants. I turned off the lights so that Sophie wouldn't see them and be tempted to come by the office and say hello. Luckily, there was plenty of daylight left, and the light from my window illuminated the beautiful sight before me, that is, the slutty grad student Samantha on her knees with my throbbing cock in her mouth.

I watched as my cock disappeared between her full lips. It was hard for me to maintain my dominant role while being so concerned about being caught, but the sight of the young woman on her knees in front of me brought me back to the moment and I couldn't help myself.

I grabbed a handful of Samantha's hair and whispered:

"Look up at me when you suck my cock, slut!"

She took my cock as far as she could, then looked up at me, her eyes watering at the strain of having my huge member down her throat.

"That's more like it."

I pulled my cock out of her mouth, then slapped it across her face as I pulled her hair.

"This is what you came here for, isn't it, slut?"

"Yes."

"What do sluts like you like to do?"

"We like to suck cock, sir."

"That's right," I said, then pushed my cock back into her mouth.

Her petite cheeks bulged as my phallus filled them. It felt incredible to feel her tongue glide under my cockhead as I pressed into her throat. I heard her gag a bit, so I pulled my cock back out, ordering her once again to look up at me.

"Beg for my cock."

"Please sir, may I suck your cock?"

"What will you do for me if I let you?"

"I'll let you fuck me."

I slapped my cock across her face again.

"Listen, you little slut," I said, looking down at the beautiful young woman on her knees in front of me, "I own your pussy now. I'll decide if I want to fuck it or not. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

She looked up at me, her eyes pleading.

"May I suck your cock, sir?"

"I don't know if you've earned the privilege yet."

I sat down on the chair across from my desk and motioned her to me.

"Get across my lap."

"What are you going to do Professor Carver?" she said, stretching herself over my knee.

"I'm going to give you the spanking you deserve," I said, flipping up the back of the short dress she was wearing and roughly tearing at her thong panties as I yanked them down her legs.

The flimsy cotton tore at one seam, and I had a long piece of mainly latex waistband in my hand. That gave me an idea.

"So you don't make too much noise," I said, gagging her with the torn panties, which now formed a piece of fabric long enough to tie behind her head. I heard her breathing increase as she felt the gag fill her mouth.

"I bet you feel like a real slut now, don't you?"

"Mmm hmm," she moaned enthusiastically.

"That probably gets you really wet."

"Mmm hmm."

I reached between her legs to check. Her pussy was indeed quite wet.

"Only a real slut would get so hot from being gagged and spanked," I said, "Are you a real slut, Samantha?"

"Yes," came the muffled response through the gag.

I landed a sharp spank across both of her butt-cheeks, hitting her exposed pussy in the process. She moaned and squirmed on my lap, but I held her firmly in place with my left arm.

I drew back and spanked her again, hard enough to make a loud cracking sound that probably could have been heard in the hallway. I knew from experience that the concrete blocks the office was made out of blocked out sound quite well, but at the same time, I knew I couldn't risk spanking her this loud for too long, on the off chance that Sophie was snooping at the door.

I decided to try something different. I reached for a wooden ruler on my desk, hoping it wouldn't make quite as much noise as my open hand, but would sting even more. The first blow confirmed this theory, leaving a red mark across Samantha's ass.

I took my time spanking her, forcing her to guess where my next blow would fall and when. All the while, I whispered obscenities to her, describing what I was going to do with her next.

"I'm going to bend you over the desk," I whispered between blows from the ruler, "and stick my big thick cock into your tiny pussy."

She moaned through the gag in encouragement.

I continued to spank her with the ruler until her entire backside was bright red. She was clearly extremely aroused by this point, getting closer and closer to cumming.

"And then I'm going to fuck that cute little ass of yours," I said, landing a spank directly across her pussy.

"No!" she moaned through her gag.

"Not too fond of that idea, are you? Well sometimes when you spread rumors about people, you have to pay a price."

One more well placed smack across her pussy lips brought her to a quivering orgasm. I waited until she had stopped trembling over my lap, then picked her up easily and bent her over my desk.

Her petite body looked absolutely beautiful curved over the wooden desk, her backside reddened by the onslaught of my ruler, her moist pink cunt lips exposed.

I held her hands behind her back easily while I guided my throbbing cock to the entrance of her pussy.

"Are you ready to be fucked?"

She moaned a response through the gag. I grabbed a handful of her hair with one hand and pushed forward, encountering a startling amount of resistance. Even though she was well-lubricated after the orgasm she'd had while I was spanking her, her pussy was so tight it was going to take some work for me to get inside. No problem, I was looking forward to it.

She moaned in pleasure as I pushed forward, countering the first bit of resistance and working my thick cockhead just inside the first few inches of her cunt.

I had all but forgotten about Sophie being in the office down the hall, and decided to remove her gag, pulling it roughly over her head. The panties were sopping wet with her spit and juice, and I used them now to tie her hands behind her back before I pushed my cock in to the hilt, savoring the tightness of her petite pussy.

"God, professor, you're so big," she gasped as I entered her.

I pulled my cock slowly out of her, giving her already-sore ass a hard slap.

"If you want to be fucked you'll have to beg for it, slut."

I teased her pussy entrance with my cockhead and smacked her ass once again while I pulled her hair.

"Let me hear you beg me for it."

"Please professor."

"Please what?"

I smacked her ass again, then began to rub my cock between her cheeks.

"If you don't want it in your pussy, I guess I'll just have to take your ass," I threatened.

"No please," she moaned, "please not my ass. Fuck my pussy."

"Louder, slut!"

"Fuck my pussy. Stick your big cock back in my pussy."

I pushed my cock back into her pussy, much faster this time, so that she gasped when I bottomed out against her cervix.

"You've never had a cock this big, have you slut?"

"No sir."

"You love this cock, don't you, slut?"

"Yes sir. I love your cock sir."

I rewarded her with another stroke.

"Who owns your pussy now?"

"You do sir."

"That's right," I said, fucking her faster now, grinding her clit into the desk with every stroke.

"God your cunt is tight."

She gasped out obscenities as I fucked her and slapped her ass.

"Fuck –"

SLAP! I spanked her ass.

"me –"

SLAP!

"I'm –"

SLAP!

"a –"

SMACK! Her ass was once again bright red.

"SLUT FOR –"

SMACK!

"YOUR COCK, PROFESSOR," she finished, climaxing beneath me. It was all I could do not to shoot my load as well as I felt her pussy clamp down around me in orgasm.

"I'm going to cum in that tight little pussy of yours," I growled in her ear as I began to ride her again. I felt my own orgasm building to an inevitable stage. I was about to shoot a gigantic load into this young woman's cunt.

"Please give me your cum, professor," Samantha moaned, "shoot your big load inside your little whore."

Hearing her refer to herself as a whore sent me over the edge. I shot spurt after spurt of thick warm cum into her tiny pussy, positively flooding it. Then I extracted my cock from her pussy and pulled Samantha to her feet.