"Professor?" Dr. Devin Blakely didn't need to turn around to know that Acacia Nelson was behind him. She was a senior psychology student in his colloquium on human deviance. Perfectly poised to make valedictorian and the department's most apt student, it was not her mind that stood out to the professor. When she had entered the university at 18, she had been a mousy, bespectacled, soft-spoken youth from a high-class New Hampshire family. As her degree advisor, the professor had watched her develop into an engaging, outspoken, and voluptuous woman.
He was almost afraid to turn around. He had worked very hard over the past few months to protect the professionalism of their relationship by not staring at her body or, infinitely worse, commenting. So he continued packing his briefcase and facing safely away from her.
"Miss Nelson, what can I do for you?" Or better yet, to you...
"Well sir, I have to confess, I seem to have a little writer's block. About the final project, I mean."
Deciding he could keep his thoughts clean while discussing psychology, he turned...and immediately regretted it. She wore a cotton off-the-shoulder sweater, so tight it clung to the tiny curves between her ribs. Her skirt clung to her wide hips and stopped about two inches below the apex of her thighs. The fuzzy boots on her feet seemed terribly incongruent with her lack of clothing. What a get-up! And in February too. Her nipples seemed to agree with this very reasonable sentiment as they puckered beneath the tan fabric of her top. They were so perfectly erect that he could almost feel them between his teeth. Saliva filled his mouth and he swallowed hard against the urge to cup one of her full breasts in his hand.
"Cold?" He asked. Then he felt all the blood rush to his face as he realized what he'd said.
"Pardon?" She asked, sweetly.
"I mean, isn't it cold out to be wearing such a small outfit?"
"I suppose it's really a matter of opinion." Perhaps it was just wishful thinking but he could swear the corner of her mouth turned up a little as she subtly passed a hand over her breast to warm (or attract attention to?) her protruding nipple.
He cleared his throat and tried a new angle. Perhaps by flipping through the stack of papers on the desk before him, he could talk to her and still seem in control of his libido.
"What is your topic again?" He asked.
"Sexual deviance."
So much for control.
"And, uh, what...what did you...were you going to write about with that?"
"Well, that's just the problem, Dr. Blakely. I don't really know how to go about researching this sort of thing."
The professor felt a rush of blood draining into his groin. He cast a discreet glance down the front of his trousers and was not surprised to see the stiff bulge of his erection behind the zipper.
"Was there a particular aspect of deviance you wanted to focus on? Perhaps incest or pedophilia?"
"I was hoping to research dominance and submission."
"Indeed." Dr. Blakely felt a calm begin to settle over him at the thought of tying Acacia Nelson to a table and sliding into her wet cunt. "How did you have it in mind to research this, Miss Nelson."
"Call me, Acacia." She reached out, serenely and placed a hand on his now throbbing penis.
"This is highly unprofessional, Miss Nelson."
"Am I naughty student, professor? Do you want to spank me?"
"Are you trying to get an easy A, Miss Nelson? Because you don't need to do this."
"It's not my grades I'm concerned about. I want you to teach me how to be submissive."
Devin's head spun with the endless possibilities of Acacia Nelson at his mercy. He had a sudden vision of her bare-assed, straining against a ball-gag as he tanned her immaculate flesh with a belt.
"You don't know what you're getting into, Miss Nelson."
