"Good of you to join us, Ms. Edmunds," Professor Ashton leered as Liz sashayed into Art class several minutes late.
The other students turned to glance at the tardy coed as she swayed toward her usual workbench. The women rolled their eyes, but most of the male students joined their professor, whose gaze devoured the sight of the curvy coed. Liz's dark brown curls were pulled back from her pretty, aristocratic face and fell in waves past the thin shoulder straps of her halter top. Her full, round breasts strained against the thin white fabric. As Liz strutted past the other students to her seat, she knew her audience was getting a good view.
"I'm sorry I'm late professor. I was unavoidably detained," Liz smiled, perching on the stool in front of her worktable.
As Liz settled into her seat, she opened her legs slightly. It was a part of a ritual Liz had set up early in the semester, flirtatiously showing off her panties. So, even as Professor Ashton drew breath for a firm rebuke, his eyes fell toward Liz's thighs. Whatever he planned to say was lost in a small smile as he stared down at Liz's naked, shaven and slightly swollen pussy. Catching himself, the art instructor turned to the rest of the class and continued outlining the new assignment.
Still smiling, Liz set herself to work, silently enjoying the surreptitious glances being made by multiple sets of eyes toward her partly exposed body. Liz loved it. She enjoyed the sense of power she got when she blatantly flaunted her sexuality. Some people, including one person she loved completely, called her a slut, but Liz refused to see that as a bad thing. She reveled in being openly, brazenly sexy. The thought of so many eyes on her thrilled her, and Liz felt herself getting horny just imagining what the boys must be thinking. It was a game that ended all too soon.
As the students filed out of class, one in particular caught her eye. Derrick was a lean, dark man: dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes, but somehow without any of the goth pretentiousness that one might expect. Derrick was a mystery. Liz knew he was attracted to her, but he was always so contained, as if everything, even his own lust, fueled his self-control. Looking at Derrick, Liz felt a dark chill, almost fear. She started to follow him toward the door.
"Ms. Edmunds," Professor Ashton's voice broke through Liz's distraction with almost shocking force, "I would like a word with you before you go."
Tossing a smile at Derrick, Liz turned and swayed back toward the art professor. Her back to him, she failed to see the shadow pass over Derrick's face as he turned and walked from the classroom, just as she failed to notice Ashton's eyes following the younger man's departure.
"Come over here, Ms. Edmunds," Ashton said firmly, directing Liz to a worktable where one of her works-in-progress was displayed. It was a small mixed media sculpture that suggested more than showed two standing figures blurring into each other.
Liz smiled slightly as she moved to stand in front of the piece. As she did, the professor moved to stand behind her. He braced his arms on the table on either side of her, and a thrill ran through Liz as she realized she was effectively trapped between the table and his body.
"Yes, professor?" Liz sighed. She could feel the heat of his body, almost touching her.
"Liz," he said, using her first name for the first time. His breath brushed her ear as he spoke. "You are one of my most promising students."
"Thank you, professor," Liz smiled slightly.
"Take this piece for instance," Ashton continued. He leaned closer. Liz felt his arms brush hers, his chest touching her shoulders. "It's very... provocative."
"Thank you. That's what I'd intended." Liz sighed. The piece had been inspired by Liz's first encounter with her friend Becky, a truly provocative memory.
Liz pushed herself back slightly, curving her body against the professor's. She could feel him pressing against her, his strong arms, his powerful chest and, as she shifted her hips against him, his hard shaft. She felt her breath quickening as Professor Ashton leaned against her. The stubble of his rough beard raked against her shoulder.
"I find it quite... inspiring," Ashton breathed into her neck. His hand traced slowly up Liz's arm, causing her to shiver in delight.
"I'm glad," Liz sighed. "I think inspiration should be... embraced."
"Yes, you're so right," Ashton growled, firmly pushing his face into the curve of Liz's shoulder. The coed gasped as Professor Ashton sucked on the soft flesh of her neck, his teeth firmly grazing her skin.
Ashton's hand, already sliding up her arm, dove roughly down the neck of her tank top. He forcefully grasped Liz's firm, round breast and pulled it free of its fabric constraints. Liz squealed. The professor's strong hand squeezed her bare breast. He sucked and bit at her neck with bruising force.
Liz felt consumed by passion. Her body pressed back against his. Her head lolled to the side, pressing her neck against his hungry mouth. Her hands clutched at his arms, holding tightly. Her hips rocked against him, rubbing against the firm bulge in his pants. A wild, uncontrolled moan escape her lips, the sound distantly shocking the part of her mind that was still capable of thought with the depth of animal lust it expressed.
Professor Ashton held her tightly. His mouth sucked passionately on her neck. His hand squeezed her breast firmly. His fingers circled her nipple, sending sparks of sensation through her body. His hips thrust against her, pressing his hard shaft into the cleft of her ass. Liz moaned again, the sound even more feral than before. Ashton thrust forward with his whole body, shoving her forcefully against the worktable. His finger pinched and twisted her nipple painfully. His teeth sank into her neck.
Liz's moan became a scream. Her whole body tensed and quivered. She felt trapped. Her body was pinned between his powerful form and the hard worktable. His hand and his mouth pulled at her, the sensations blurring between pleasure and pain. Suddenly, Liz was afraid.
"No," she gasped. Her own voice sounded alien to her, a guttural mix of longing and fear.
Professor Ashton seemed to overwhelm her. His body pressed so firmly against her that the hard edge of the table dug painfully into her belly. His hand clenched over her breast, squeezing it brutally. His teeth dug into her neck, threatening to draw blood.
Suddenly, everything changed. His mouth was gently brushing her hot neck. His hand lightly caressing her soft breast and firm nipple. Their bodies were barely touching, the distance between them teasingly slight. Liz whimpered at the professor's gentle fingers.
"Do you want me to stop?" Professor Ashton said, his lips brushing her neck as he spoke. "You only have to say it." One hand, feather light, teased sparks of pleasure from her breast, while the other slid along her belly, the pleasure of it almost tickling her.
She moaned. She felt hot, confused, inflamed. She knew she had wanted him to stop but she couldn't for the life of her remember why she should want this pleasure to end.
