Disrupting The Workshop

(This is a transcript of real erotic messages between a straight man and woman, fully anonymized and lightly edited for clarity.)

(Contents may include: alternating mental dom/sub behavior, intelligence loss, respectful degradation talk, moral corruption, crude language, and the like. Only continue if these themes are your thing. All characters are above 18.)

(The messages start from her, and alternate between her/him separated by a "-" hyphen. Enjoy!)

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What if you were the professor of your transportation workshop?

Maybe I'm not a very good student.

How are you gonna keep me in line?

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It depends... are you struggling to keep up? Or actively disrupting my class?

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Actively disrupting... Probably a cry for attention.

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Poor thing. I see this all the time.

At first I ignore it, hoping that denying you attention removes the incentive.

But it doesn't, does it?

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I can't stay still, I keep asking questions and talking to my classmates during your lecture.

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At first I try to dismiss your fidgeting. I do it, too, after all.

Your motion keeps attracting my eyes, and eventually I catch myself looking at your body... Watching your hips twist in your seat... Taking notice of your voluptuous curves... Seeing your adorable lips pout outward, almost making me want to keep you entertained.

When you giggle with the people at your table, I can't help but notice your body jiggle. It makes me think lots of unprofessional thoughts...

"How much would she jiggle while bouncing on me?"

"Is her skin as soft as it looks?"

"Her tits aren't really that big and full, are they?"

At first your questions annoy me, interrupting my presentations and train of thought. But quickly I come to welcome anything you ask, giving me an excuse to admire your rebellious take on an adorable and sexy outfit.

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I definitely notice you looking, and after making eye contact with you longer than necessary, I start to fidget even more, leaning over my desk to raise my hand, and to give you a peak down my blouse.

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I have to ask you to restate your question... I don't even hear it the first time.

This is starting to have an affect on my body. I can feel my cock begin to firm up, snaking down my pant leg. I try my best to hide it, changing how I stand, resting my hand in front of it. But this only seems to draw your attention, which makes me grow more.

As participants do activities at their tables, I make the rounds ensuring everyone is progressing.

I check twice as much on you, brushing my hand along your neck or shoulder encouragingly, or patting your mischievously bare thigh when you're doing good work, or faux-accidentally brushing my bulge against your arm as I pass by.

A couple of women at your table were also at first annoyed, but now you can detect a good bit of envy in their occasional glances when I pass by. They want what we have.

I notice you're fidgeting even more, but it's not a show is it... I'm turning you on to a degree you didn't anticipate.

I've got you.

I circle back, peering liberally down your blouse now that I know you enjoy when I do. You look up and smile, partially because it's so fun, partially because you're rightfully proud of your body and what it does to me.

You bravely start shifting your body to brush against my bulge when I pass by. Hand, shoulder, wrist, neck, cheek--whatever you can get against my body, you put it there. And I lean right into you.

The next activity, students stand up and read out their work to the class. When it's your turn, I relish your body, head to toe, swinging your hips knowingly on the way up, eying me up and down when the class can't see your eyes. Your are overdeveloped for your runner's body type. Your cute bowed legs make me picture you bent over the desk you're standing in front of.

You read your work... Your voice is sensual musical my eyes. I barely hear words, just the heat in your voice. It's full of subtle innuendo as you glance over at me for... what is it? desire? approval? consent to hop me right then and there?

I'm sweating now, totally enamored with your body.

After the readings I ask my other facilitator to take the next activity. Everyone gets up to rearrange into smaller groups, and in the commotion I meander through the class to you, pull you toward me, and disappear around a corner in a nearby hallway, telling you I need to have a word with you.

We're both breathing heavily.

This is it.

I stare hungrily into your eyes, reprimanding you for being so disruptive, spanking you after each accusation.

You apologize, but you don't mean it, smirking hungrily through each false apology. It makes me both more frustrated and immensely turned on at the same time. My frustration turns sexual and stays that way, getting more direct with every word, every punishing ass slap.

I turn my disciplinary attention to your beautiful and slutty little top, touching features or areas as I call them out as distractions and against policy, each one gently traced by my fingers, making your nipples harden so much I can see them through your clothes.

You're thrusting your chest and hips up to me now, ready for me to tell you what's wrong with your attire while I grope your offensive curves. We both love it.

You break me in-- knowing how little time we have, you grab my bulge, full-on, asking me if this fat cock bulge is against policy, pumping me and tugging me in return.

I stand in shock and glee, letting you have your way with me. It seems to go on forever.

But eventually the animal comes out again, staring into your eyes and I force your hand to pull my pants down and start tugging my actual cock, bare.

I play with your hard nipples, pull your panties down to your knees, pull your clothes aside and leave them there, your body a half-exposed fountain of sexual energy.

You say something snarky. Disrespectful. Inappropriate.

I've had enough.

I lift you up again the wall, hearing the class go on just around the corner.

Both of us are already exposed, so it's easy to press our bodies together.

With my stiff cock I can feel how hot and wet you are before I even touch you.

I guide my rod to your willing pussy, call you a bad, bad girl, look you in the eyes...

And thrust in.

Firmly.

Slowly.

Authoritatively.

You say bratty things, egg me on, which just pushes me further over the edge and into desire.

Soon I'm telling you how bad you are while full-on pounding you, thrusting you against the wall while the workshop continues just around the corner.

Your body is light, and willing, and wet, and made of raw sex, and I can't get enough.

The noises our bodies make against the wall are so rhythmic and needy that even hearing ourselves makes me harder.

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As we fall further into the rhythm the sensation takes over, I can no longer think of anything snarky to say. I can't say anything at all. You've finally shut me up.

I'm getting exactly what I want, your full attention, your desire, your energy, your sex.

I let myself bask in it until you slap my ass again.

I thought my punishment was over and I start to protest (even though I obviously love it,) but you press your mouth against mine to make me silent again.

-

As I pump into you, I try to make the lesson stick...

"Only good girls get fucked. You were a bad girl. Are you a good girl, now?"

You whimper something while enthusiastically nodding.

"Does this good girl like my cock inside her?"

More vigorous nodding.

"Do you want me to fuck you again? Often? Like a good girl?"

The hardest nodding yet.

"Why don't you use your words?"

"Yes!"

"Yes what?"

"Yes please"

"Yes who?"

"Yes please, sir!"

"That's my good girl."

"I'm your good girl..." you whimper, almost to yourself.

"I'm a good girl..."

"Good girls get fucked..."

"I'm a good girl..."

I love hearing you try on the words. Identifying so closely with your sexual needs, your favorite role.

Getting fucked. And being a good girl.

I'm claiming you. You wanted it. You're getting it.

You're my horny little good girl, now.

Amidst my heavy thrusting inside you, against the wall, you feel the need to tell me.

You muster up enough control over your body to pull your face away from my shoulder and look me in the eyes. Our eyes are both gone, desperate, animalistic, and bleary with pleasure.

"Professor..." you gasp... "I'm your horny little good girl, now."

I lose it, completely.

I dump so much cum inside you, pinning you in the air against the wall. Load after load, shooting deeply inside with all the pent up energy of the day.

It sends you over the edge too, and you moan and beg and writhe, unable to pull back from my length....Not that you actually want to.

I kiss your forehead so gingerly, holding you as you shudder, letting you know that you're safe, that you're beautiful, that obedience makes you feel good and horny and natural and taken care of.

I let you slide off of me, as I try to restore your sex-soaked clothing to its original state.

I zip up, and we rejoin the workshop, effectively hiding nothing about what we've done.

I thank everyone for coming... especially you.

On the way out, I subtly smack your ass. You peek over your shoulder and grin.

It's fun to be a good girl.