Give the Student What He Wants

It's been a week and a half since I first met "Jason's" lovely cock. Even Jason himself has praised my progress. That was a few minutes ago -- now he was relaxed on my living room sofa, sipping from a bottle of spring water. I was lying on the couch, with the back of my head resting on his muscular thighs, looking up and his firm pectorals and handsome face. His dick, now mostly drained of his sweet cum, flopped against my cheek. There'd been a lot of cum -- he's just nineteen, after all! -- and I'm sorry to say that I'd spilled some of it. He'd had one last spurt just as I pulled back for air. It missed my gaping mouth, and now that fragrant juice was all over my face and hair. I had a big gob in one eye; I'd tried to wipe it out and eat it, but he'd reached down and grabbed my wrist with one hand. His eyes were smiling, but it was obvious I didn't have permission to wipe my eye. "Yes, Master," I thought. Whatever pleased him, made me ecstatic.

While Jason and I are relaxing, let me fill you in on the past week or so. I suppose you're wondering what happened to all the "Master" Jason talk. Bear with me.

After young Jason had left my office on that first day, I naturally spent the rest of the day in a happy daze. I did manage to get my grading done. My Master, of course, got the "A" I'd promised him, but he really had done poorly. It wouldn't do return a paper bleeding with red ink, with an "A" on top. Some classmate might spot it. In a few moments I figured out a workaround. I made a copy of his quiz, lightly marked the original, and given him the "A". Then I carefully, lovingly, noted his mistakes on the copy, and wrote a long explanation of his mistakes.

How did I dare correct my Master's work? Because he was a finance major, and he'd have to master calculus so he could pass his other courses. I hoped, I mean HOPED, he'd see it for the supportive gesture I'd meant. Before going home, I looked him up on the system. He's nineteen, from a suburb of the only real city in our state, about 100 miles away, and so far has a 3.2 grade average. I felt a jealous pang as I wondered if any other faculty had been privileged to suck his cock and give him good grades.

In class the next morning, I handed back the quizzes, answered some questions, and tried to get down to work. Jason sat at the end of the row, by the windows. He said nothing to me, and didn't do anything special. It didn't matter to me. It took a lot of will power to pull my adoring gaze from his face, and crotch, and attend my other students. His face was bland, but with a faint smile. Then, just as I turned around to work a problem on the chalkboard, he winked at me. I gasped, but just in time turned the gasp into a cough, as if from chalk dust. I'd get another chance! I was sure of it!

I'd thought ahead, last night, and bought a new jockstrap, to help keep my own insignificant cock from straining through my pants, into the face of the well-endowed cutie in the front row. It worked some, but when he winked, my cock turned into an iron bar. It didn't break through the cloth, but I knew without looking that there was a big tent in my crotch. I turned just in time, I think, and took a long time to work that particular problem on the board.

Somehow I got through the class period. He didn't wink any more, but even so every time I looked his way, which was often, I got a little weaker in the knee. I hoped that the students who noticed would decide I was sick, or else in heat for the girl in the front row. Actually, I didn't much care what they thought. My thoughts were elsewhere.

I dismissed the class about ten minutes early. This would give me a chance to big to help him. "Jason, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure, Professor."

When he approached I said, in a normal teacher voice, "Nice work on the quiz, Jason, but I need to talk to you about the unusual way you solved number 3. Do you have some time now?"

Just about then, the last student had reached the door. As it shut behind her, I started to speak, then collapsed into The Position. "Master Jason," I stammered. "As your teacher, I must help you learn calculus. Please forgive my presumption." Without raising my eyes, I handed up the copy of his homework, covered with my comments. No Cupid's hearts, though. I still had a little dignity. But I'd thought about it.

I forgot my station and looked up to his eyes, but he was looking at the papers I'd handed him. His crotch was right in front of my face. Without thinking, I kissed his pants, about where his cock should be.

Wham! He didn't even stop reading his quiz, but simply slapped the side of my head with his free hand. I fell over, not because he'd hit me that hard, but because I was both startled and nervously apologetic.

"Please, Master, forgive me. I don't know what I was -- "

"SHUT UP, Doctor Bitch! You insult me on this paper, but you think you deserve to touch my body? What's wrong with you, worm?"

I saw the door handle move and jumped to my feet. Before he could react, I said, "Listen, Jason. I'm just trying to help you get the math basics down so you do okay in your business and finance classes. I really have your best interests at heart." He looked like he wanted to hit me again, but he'd heard the students enter and just glared. "We can talk about this more, in my office, if you'd like," I said.

"O.K." he said slowly, "Maybe this is a pretty good idea after all."

I was trembling as we walked to my office. Not much small talk. In fact, not much talk at all. I used my key, and we went in together. This time, it was me who relocked the door. Again, as soon as it latched, I fell into The Position.

"Get up, Dr. Bitch. Now!" I rose helped along by his grip on my hair. "You may assume The Position only when I order it. You took too big a chance in the classroom. If you want another taste of my cock, you'd better remember that I'm in charge here."

"Y- Yes, Master." I moaned.

"I thought about our what you said as we walked over here. As Professor ___, you're right. I do need to learn this stuff. Okay, you can tutor me in math. But as Dr. Bitch, you'd better not forget your manners."

"Oh, yes, Master." I cried. Joyous tears flowed from my eyes. So much more time to spend with him! So many more opportunities. . .

"I would have come here after class anyway. I need to get my rocks off," he growled. "Your clumsy blow job'll take too long. I'm gonna jack off, then you're gonna lick up my cum from wherever it lands. Got it?" I nodded. He yanked down his long zipper and pulled his magnificent organ from his boxers. I hadn't gotten a good look at it yesterday. It really was huge! I guessed 8 inches long, two in diameter. I've measured it since then, and wasn't far off. It curved out from his fly, rooted in those wonderful balls I couldn't see except in my memory. Up, up, past his belt. Rigid -- so hard it could have been a brick sculpture of a hard-on. The blue veins formed ridges, defined like a body-builder's muscles. The top, almost brick red itself, was lovely. How I wanted to wrap my lips around that boy's dick and keep them there forever!

But, my Master had said no. He wrapped his handsome fist around the shaft and started to stroke. "Get a good, careful look, Dr. Bitch. Maybe you'll get it right next time." Slow strokes to start, then faster. He looked weak in the knees, so I rushed to place the chair where he could ease into it, still stroking. The violence of his strokes had pulled his beautiful balls out of his pants; they were keeping rhythm by slap, slap, slapping the cloth. I was mesmerized.

Then (because after all, I'd jacked off a few thousand times myself) I knew he was about to explode. I positioned my eager mouth as close to the tip as I dared -- he'd ordered me not to touch him, and anyway if I got too close I'd risk getting hit by that big, heedless fist pumping up and down on his piston.

Pow! I could almost hear the splat! of the first stream of cum hitting the roof of my mouth. After that, though, I didn't get much. He came plenty, but I couldn't catch it. His cock-head was flying around as he stroked, and his cum shot across the room. On my computer, on my books, but I didn't care. I still tried to catch more in my mouth. Actually, it was good that I got only small amounts at a time. I had the chance today, that I hadn't had yesterday, to savor the taste and texture of that lovely nectar. How had I lived so long without tasting this before? I wondered if other men's cum tasted the same -- not as good as my Master, of course, but pretty good anyway. Then I realized that if my dreams came true, I'd never find out. I'd just service my Master on demand. He'd graduate, get a job, have girl friends, eventually get married. . . and I'd find some job in his area, just to be on call for him. Did I dare to dream such a dream?

As ordered, I went around the office, licking up his cum wherever I found it. Some was on his shirt -- he permitted me to lick that up, too. After my tongue got all it could, I used tissues to get a little more, and to wipe my saliva off everything. Of course I ate the used tissues, without being told.

Master Jason sat and watched me, with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. Well, he deserved it. I was his professor, I'd been to graduate school and earned a Ph.D., In my time I'd had maybe a dozen women, I'd fathered a child (in custody of my ex-wife) and I was supposed to be in charge. He'd changed all that yesterday, in a matter of minutes. He should be self-satisfied.

When I couldn't find any more cum around the office, I turned to him with my head down, bowing. I wanted to assume The Position, but he'd ordered me not to without his express command.

"Today, right now, I want you to go buy some porn DVDs. Get some with lots of cocksucking and buttfucking. Watch them carefully, over and over if you have to, and learn something. Practice on vegetables." That struck him as funny, and he gave a smug laugh. "Yes, Master. I shall do as you order me as soon as you have gone. And --"

"You got something else to say?"

"M- Master, if you please. I see that your magnificent penis is still leaking cum. It's a shame to waste it. May I please --"

He laughed. "Okay, sure. But be quick about it. I have to meet some friends for lunch."

I was quick. I had my lunch, then and there. He didn't offer to kiss me good-bye.

That was Wednesday. I spent most of Thursday watching the porn movies -- I thought of them as instructional demonstrations. I looked forward to seeing Jason on Friday, but he didn't show up for class. I was disappointed but not surprised. Half the class usually skipped on Friday. But-- After class, he was waiting for me in the reception area by my office. I did a double take, then felt the rush of relief. I had no way to get in touch with him -- I didn't even know if he'd permit it. But not to see him for five days (Wednesday to Monday!)! It would have been too, too long.

In my office, I showed my eagerness to please him, standing with bowed head as I had done before. He let me stand there a couple of minutes, then snickered to himself. "Sit down. In your regular chair," he ordered.

Naturally, I did so. He started to talk -- the first time I'd heard him say more than a few words.

"You know, Dr. Bitch, I didn't have to do even a little hypnosis on Wednesday. You just naturally obeyed everything I said. You're just a natural cum slut, aren't you?"

"Yes, Master. Was I hypnotized? I was not aware. Why did you bother? Of course, serving you is my sole purpose."

"Well, Dr. Bitch, let me tell you. I did hypnotize you on that first day. I'm good at it. You're a great subject. You almost put yourself under. When I told you that your tits were growing, and reached over to yank a couple of buttons off your shirt, it was all I could do not to laugh. You were preening like Jennifer Aniston or somebody! You thought you were really hot stuff. It was cute. But I gotta tell you. You never grew any tits. The bra was real, though. You sure loved that bra."

I started to speak, but he snapped, "Shut up!."

"You had no idea you were gay, did you?" he resumed. "Well, you are. You'd be gay, now, because that's my command. But you were gay before. You just didn't know it. I had a pretty good guess, but then I've got some experience. Ever since I discovered how easy it is to put some people under my spell.

"And they stay under my spell. You're really mine, Doc. I own you. I suppose you could find some expert to break through my post-hypnotic suggestions, but it would kill you to try. You'll never look for 'help' escaping my power. You'll never comprehend that obeying me isn't normal."

He was right. I didn't comprehend. Of course obedience to one's Master is normal!

"I might just decide to release you. Then where the hell will you be? After a couple of years as my slut-slave, you won't have any life to go back to. I don't know what'll happen; in the past, I've never seen a person after I released them. You'll be automatically released if I die or disappear, you won't walk around like a zombie. You'll be free." He stopped and looked at me for a long moment. "Unless, unless, you're involved in my death. Then you'll live the rest of your life in torment I don't even want to think about."

As he said this, I felt a hint of the torment, just from the thought. My Master? Dead? Disappeared? How could he possibly think I would do such a thing? "Master, Master," I cried, tears on my cheeks. "You'll never leave me! I could never try to harm you! Please say you'll never leave me!"

"Oh, I'll probably leave you some day. I'll trade up for somebody better, or just somebody else. But I won't disappear. I'll still be here with my new slave. And whether I release you from the spell or not, you'll ache, every single day. But every single day, you'll know that dumping you is my right, and that your trivial heartache is totally unimportant."

"In fact," he went on, "you might not survive. Did you know Professor Bridgman, in the English Department?" I shook my head, still confused and getting scared. "He was the original Dr. Bitch here at college. Fall semester. I didn't even dump him. I just went home for Christmas vacation. When I came back, just a couple of weeks ago, I heard he was dead," he paused. "Shot himself. Too bad, he was one great cocksucker. Now I have to train a new one."

If he felt any remorse for Professor Bridgman, it didn't show. If anything, he seemed pleased with himself. But it was okay with me. If Bridgman's death left the vacancy I had won, then, well, too bad for him. Part of me wondered where my morals had gone, part of me knew, most of me didn't care.

As he boasted of his casual, life-or-death power over me and others, my cock became a steel rod once again. I'd been chosen to serve this superman! His cock had grown, too, almost to how it had been yesterday, when he sprayed cum all over my office.

"Well, Dr. Bitch, you're making me horny. Three days in a row! You're a lucky slut, Dr. Bitch. Now assume The Position and get to work. Show me that you've been doing your homework."

I'd learned a lot from the porn movies, except for one thing. Most of the porn actors had big dicks, but they weren't beautiful like my Master's. Of course not, you say. But the odd thing was that when erect, their dicks stuck straight out, horizontal, and not vertical like mine and Jason's, the only two erections I'd ever seen live and in color.

I suppose that it's an occupational hazard of a porn star -- he starts the day with a normal hard-on, but after all the rehearsals, he's getting tired. That's neither here nor there, except that the lessons from the porn flicks didn't show what I needed to know, right now: how to blow a long, thick, vertical erection from the kneeling position. When the porn stars knelt, the stud's pole conveniently stuck right into their mouths. I had to get my head ten or so inches higher, and get the angle right. I'm afraid I was clumsy at first. I could hear my Master's grunts and sighs of impatience. But he did not become angry -- my kind Master!

Finally I found a working position. As he sat in the chair, I supported myself with my hands on the chair's arms, and climbed to a half-kneeling, half-leaning-over position. I kissed the long shaft down one side and up the other, and then again, generous with the saliva. The angle was wrong to service his balls, but mentally I blew them a kiss, too.

When his pole was good and wet, all over, from my tongue, I opened my mouth as wide as I could and plummeted down onto his cockhead, taking as much as I could in one stroke. The best part of his cock, the end with the hole in it, slid so far into my throat it made me gag a little, reminding me that I needed to leave a little working space between cock and tonsils.

That's when I realized that I had no hands -- they were on the chair, holding me up. If this had been an ordinary lover, I could have asked him for help, or at least talked it over a little. But this was my Master! Besides, he wanted to see if I'd learned my lessons. I couldn't very well ask him for help in the middle of the quiz!

Thinking fast, I tucked my lips up under my teeth and fastened my mouth around the shaft. I sucked, and sucked. The seal was tight. No air got in. On a lesser man, this would have been impossible, but my Master's huge cock filled most of my mouth anyway. Then, pacing myself, breathing through the nose, I moved my head rhythmically up and down, up and down. I worked my arms a little, too, as if I were doing push-ups. I could only go an inch or so, because his dick head hit my throat, but I did what I could. Some day, I hoped to learn "deep throat" techniques, but that's still in the future.

I pistoned up, and down, up, and down, with the same slow, steady rhythm. I think he wanted to push me away and jack himself off, quick, hard, NOW!, but his will power won out, and he took the pleasure I offered. Either was okay with me, of course. As long as he was happy. I could hear little grunts that sounded like pleasure, but I was a man, too, and knew how it worked. While your cock is being sucked, the little grunts are mostly to encourage the sucker, and to celebrate your luck or charisma or whatever led to this encounter. You enjoy the service for what it is -- service. It's only when you're about to cum that things get really exciting.

His cock told me it was almost time before his breathing and tense body did. I didn't think I really felt the jism rushing up from his balls, through that gorgeous shaft, but I imagined that I had. (Since then I've learned -- it was real.) It felt like it reached a point just short of the head, then stopped. I sucked harder. Jason moaned, and bucked in his chair. He grabbed my hair, and I expected him to fuck my mouth again, for these last few seconds.

He didn't get the chance, because he was stuck in the chair. All he could do was buck his hips a little, and grab the sides of my head and pull it up, and down, up and down, faster. If that made my Master happy, it was fine with me, but he wasn't really doing anything. I was going up, and down, picking up speed slowly, exactly as he seemed to want.

He gave a strangled groan, and his whole body shuddered. Score one for the slave! I thought. Just then the cum started to flow again. I pulled my mouth back to catch the cum on my tongue, where I could enjoy the taste. He understood, and grabbed his shaft, pumping like mad. One, two, three. . .

With no warning whatsoever, his cum exploded into my eager mouth. No matter how hard he stroked, this time I was going to get every drop. I was sucking for all I was worth, and he was pumping, and what felt like pints of cum were swishing around in my mouth before being swallowed, and we both were groaning, him from the animal pleasure of the sex act and me from my sincere joy at being allowed to perform the service. Not to mention the sweet nectar I was feeding on.