My Teacher My Master 1

The story does not contain sexual involvement of people under 18.

*****

In college was a good student. I knew that my future professional life depended on good grades, which would open doors for me. Despite constant efforts by my girlfriends to involve me in their social life, going to parties, and meeting guys, I resisted and rarely went out, opting to invest my time in being better in school.

My BFF, Sonia, was the most vocal of them all, "Debbie, you are pretty, smart, funny, and have a body of a movie star. You have a unique mixture of qualities that both guys and girls like. You are young and beautiful, and wasting the best years of your life."

My answer was always the same, "I am 20. I'll have enough time to enjoy later, when my career is established."

In most subjects I got an A. The only exception was math. For some reason, professor Arthur Bonham didn't like me. I prepared long hours for his lessons and tests, and thought I knew the material. However, he took every opportunity to mock my efforts and downgrade my examination scores. His piercing eyes and smirking smile confused me; I admired his wisdom and wit, but could not understand why he didn't like me. Unlike some students, I was trying to listen to every word he said, I was polite and never challenged him, and, of course, never attempted to play tricks on him like Peter and Barb often did.

By the end of my senior year, I managed to gather enough courage and asked to talk to him in private. He spared me 5 minutes. I muttered, "Professor Bonham, I admire you as a great teacher. For years I've tried to please you, but it seems you don't like me. Why is it?"

His eyes inspected me up and down, and then his stare met my eyes again, "Debra, you are a good student, but you can do better. Your good looks are not going to deter me from demanding more of you."

"But I really did my best, yet you still lowered my score to B."

"Because, as I said, you could have done better." He had a mischievous grin and signaled for me to leave the room.

...

Fast forward 6 years.

I was 28, unmarried, a junior CPA with Morgan, Gallagher, and Smith, the most lucrative firm in town. I was very proud to be the only one who got accepted among dozens of applicants. I was tutored for 2.5 months by 2 senior members and was doing well. I began getting clients 3 months ago and started being appreciated.

One day, the boss entered my office, locked the door behind him, sat down, and said, "Debra, I like how in such a short time you showed good progress. I want to give you a chance of a lifetime. A friend of mine just inherited a huge estate with 2 businesses from a very rich uncle who recently died. He asked me to designate my best employee to take care of the necessary taxes and have recommendations on how to continue. The job may expand from CPA to investment brokerage, increasing the profits exponentially. I could have given this job to anybody, but I believe in you. Please, don't disappoint me."

I was elated, "Sir, you won't regret it, I promise."

He smiled, "You better. Your future depends on it."

"Thank you very much, sir."

He placed an envelope on my desk, grinned and left the office.

I opened the envelope and saw the person's name. It was Arthur James Bonham.

...

Professor Bonham arrived at my office on Tuesday at 10 am sharp, right on time. He gazed at me and recognized me immediately, "Debra, what a surprise. So you are the Miss Sergeant my friend recommended. I hope he is right. I have little patience for losers."

I forced a smile, "Sir, I looked at your file and think I can help you."

"Good to hear. Listen, I have another appointment an hour from now, so let's begin."

"Actually, I already prepared a proforma with preliminary recommendations. In short, since you are now 46 and prefer to continue teaching at the university, I thought selling the 2 factories you inherited and investing the money would be a wise way to continue. I outlined my suggestions to do it in a way that will save you significant tax money in the upcoming years."

He grinned, "Sounds good to me. I'll take it with me and check your assumptions at home. If you are correct, I'll be very proud to have been your former teacher. Let's meet again in a week, but I prefer to do it in MY new office. Access is much easier."

He extended his hand to me and left soon after.

...

The following Tuesday, at 9:30 am, as we had planned before, I knocked on his office door at the high rise building across the lake. It was a scantily decorated room with a mahogany desk and a couple of chairs. There was no place for a secretary. He let me inside. I walked to the large window and glanced at the impressive view from above.

I smiled at him, "Sir, from here you can see half the city. It's a fantastic office place, which you obviously did not purchase with your teacher's salary."

His face turned serious, and he blurted, "Debra, you are right. I inherited a large sum and plan to use it wisely. I checked the documents you sent me and, unfortunately, you disappointed me."

My heart sank, "What did I do wrong?"

"Your assumptions were based on previous government and congress data. However, if you haven't noticed, republicans took over, and their agenda is completely different. If I invest according to YOUR recommendations, I am likely to lose a lot."

I blushed and later turned pale.

He continued, "But that's not all. In your calculations, you neglected to consider the local taxes on the ingredients that were bought abroad. Taking into account these additional expenses changes the equation completely." He stopped and stared at my face.

I wanted to bury myself from shame, "Sir... it will never happen again. Please give me another chance."

"Debra, in college, on your final day I told you I expected more from you. I am sorry to say you failed both of us."

"Sir, please, it was a huge assignment and I worked on it day and night, so minor errors are inevitable."

He smirked, "MINOR?... Perhaps for you because it's not YOUR money. I think it's better if I talk to Joe Morgan and tell him his recommended employee sucked so I plan to give my business to Rogers & Perlman. I am sure that they can do better."

I saw my world crumbling on top of me. I didn't just royally screw up, but I was shaming Mr. Morgan and our famous firm. The result would certainly be my firing and never being able to practice in town again.

I pleaded, "Please, Professor Bonham, if you leave us because of me, it will damage our company's reputation and ruin my life..."

"Debra, what you did was unacceptable. What would have happened if I weren't checking your numbers thoroughly? If you wish to earn another chance, you'll have to suffer a harsh punishment first."

"Thank you sir. Anything you want if I get another opportunity."

He stood up, moved to the other side of his desk, sat on a simple chair, and blurted, "You are going to be spanked. Lie down on my lap."

"WHAAAT?..."

"You heard me. Pretending to know what you were doing, deceiving me, and ignoring simple guidelines suggests to me you need to be less confident and more humble. There is no better way to remind you of humility than being slapped like the little brat you are."

"But sir, I am 28 now..."

He stood, walked toward the door, and said, "We are done here. Later today, I'll contact Joe and tell him I move my business to his rivals."

"Please, don't. I'll do whatever you wish. PLEASE..."

He sat back on the chair, and his eyes pierced mine. I walked slowly, resigning to my destiny, and lay face down on his muscular thighs.

He said, "I'll spank you 10 times. I want you to count them loudly after each slap."

Before I was ready, his large right palm landed forcefully on my covered right cheek. I gasped and whimpered. He waited a moment and hissed, "You didn't count. I start over."

When the second one hit my left cheek, I was prepared. It stung, but I clutched my teeth and mumbled, "One." He said, "That's better."

He continued alternating between my butt cheeks with each slap slightly harder. To my surprise, the first ones hurt much more than the latter ones. He finished and let me gingerly move off his lap. My bottom hurt, and rather than sitting down, I kept standing. He smiled at me, "You earned another chance. Do a better job next time! See you here again next Tuesday, same time."

...

I was convinced this time I did a better job, but I was still anxious. Interestingly, it was less about my future in the company and more about proving to my former teacher I deserved his trust.

I placed a folder on the desk before him with a large number front and central: 4.55%.

"What is it?" he asked.

"If no new war or climate disaster, I predict your recommended portfolio will make on average this percentage annually."

"Let me see." He calmly turned the pages, and now and then, did some calculations on his phone. Fifteen minutes later, he gazed at me, "When you suggested investing in Ford Company, did you consider the significant tariffs our president put on imports from Canada and Mexico?" I lowered my head, and my face was flushed.

"Does your MAGIC number take into account YOUR commission and the inflation rate?"

"I thought..."

"Debra, that will be all."

"Professor Bonham, please, give me one last chance..."

"Sorry, lady, but last time you realized I was serious about my account."

"Punish me again, but I want to be worthy of your respect."

"Your screw ups annoy me. If you insist on punishment rather than me leaving your firm, take off your panties."

"Sir, whaaat do you plaan to do tooo me?..."

"Spank you again, but this time without your butt-cushion."

"But..."

"No but. You may refuse, and in that case, just leave my office."

"Ii'll do iit..."

"Good choice."

He sat on the chair like before. I slowly lowered my panties, ensuring my short skirt cover my cunt. Then I lay, tummy first, on his lap. He raised my skirt to my waist and exposed my tushie. He couldn't see that my face was ruby red.

His first smack shook me. His palm was soft, but it was a loud spank. I held my breath and expected the next one. He blurted, "Again you forgot to count. This time it will be 20."

I sighed. What could I do? He controlled my fate, and he knew it.

He hit my butt relentlessly. Like before, after the 8th slap, his smacks felt less painful. And then I felt something hard growing and poking my abdomen. God, he was getting aroused by it! The more I thought about it, my own arousal grew as well. What was happening to us?!... I was confused, feeling tingling in my pussy and my vulva getting moist. Please, dear lord, don't let him notice it...

Professor Bonham finished, let me down and blurted, "I hope this time you learned your lesson. No more screw ups. Capisce?"

I glanced at his groin. A large tent was noted. I couldn't resist and had a tiny smile.

He said, "Debra, the reason I didn't leave your firm yet was because it would embarrass not just you and your boss, but also me as your former teacher. Please try harder next time, because the alternative to moving my business across town will be a much harsher punishment."

I joked, "You mean 40 slaps?"

He stared me down, "At least 40, but this time I might use a whip as well."

...

As I returned home, I felt lightheaded. Something was happening to me, and I couldn't understand it: Twice I messed up an important project, which could end my career, and all I could think off was Professor Bonham's erection when he slapped my ass. Why those smacks hurt so little and toward the final count caused my arousal?...

I knew it had nothing to do with my hormonal cycle because the time didn't fit. Was I simply reacting to HIS predicament? Did I finally find my match?... I had no clue.

I took a long shower and attempted to go to sleep, but was woken up by a bizarre dream: I was sitting on a bench in my favorite park, reading a book. Out of nowhere, Professor Bonham appeared and ordered me to undress. I begged him not to, reminding him we were in a public place. He laughed, 'Girl, that IS the idea. We both know deep down you are a slut, so don't fight it.' 'But why?' I asked. 'Cause it's time for your daily slaps.' He forced me to remove all my clothes in front of a gathering crowd, placed me on his lap, and started hitting my bottom. It didn't hurt a bit, but his erection pressed against me. I tried to squirm and free myself, but my actions hardened his penis even more. It made me very horny. He finished slapping me and said, 'See what you caused me? Take care of it.'

Right at that moment, I woke up due to a loud noise of a thunderstorm outside. My cunt was drenched. I masturbated, thinking about Professor Bonham's dick... When I was done, I had a single thought: I turned into a pervert. My imagination was getting the better of me, and rather than being upset at the way I was shattering my future, I was getting horny by my former teacher's spanking. God, have mercy on me...

Yet the sight and feel of his bulge never left my mind. I was distracted and knew nobody I could talk to about it. What should I do next?

As I again tried to work on Professor Bonham's investment file, my brain kept alternating between working on the numbers and recalling the unforgettable sight of his massive tent. There was no way my renewed attempts to improve my calculations would be any better. What to do?!...

After hours of self doubt I resigned to my fate; I was going to fail once more and endure the consequences.

...

Tuesday morning, I wore a summer blouse and left the top 2 buttons open. It exposed the top of my D cup tits. My rationale was that Professor Bonham would take a liking to me, or at least get distracted and spare me the humiliation. Under my short skirt, I wore my favorite low cut silky panties.

I arrived at his office. He smiled and let me inside. He gazed at me without speaking, and I handed him the new folder. He studied the forms for 10 minutes, then sighed, "Debra, you know what's coming next, don't you?"

I lowered my eyes in shame.

"Take off your skirt and panties and assume the position."

I didn't argue. My cunt and ass were exposed, but couldn't fight anymore. I felt helpless against his strong will and power over me. As I was lying with my stomach on his lap, he muttered, "As I said, today the number is 40. The first 20 with my palm, and the rest with a whip I bought specially for you." I kept quiet, hoping to survive the ordeal.

Like before, after the first few strokes, my butt cheeks became less sensitive to pain, yet a weird feeling of arousal enveloped me. Seconds later, the now familiar poke of his rigid organ pressed against my belly. It made me even hornier and I gently rubbed my tummy against his erection. I felt his cock engorging further and his respiration become labored.

My arousal was affecting my mind, and without thinking, my hand moved to caress his calf. He stopped and sneered, "What do you think you are doing?"

"I felt you were getting hard and wanted to help..."

"What is the connection between touching my lower leg and another organ getting hard?"

"If you wish me to stop..."

"I think you are smarter than that. Yes, watching your cute bubble ass aroused me, but I can see your cunt is soaked as well. What I am saying is that right now BOTH of us are horny. Anything you can think of that will help more than touching my leg?"

Despite my foggy brain, I knew exactly what he was referring to. I licked my dry lips and mumbled, "I am not sure."

"Debra, you better come up with a better answer, because if I have to jack off as a consequence of watching your sexy body, this will be the end of our relationship."

I whispered, "What do you want me to do?"

His answer was blunt, "Instead of talking, use your mouth for a higher purpose."

His rough voice shook me to the core, but again, for an unknown reason, it excited me as well. I stumbled from his lap while thinking I was turning into a submissive slut. He parted slightly his legs and stared at my face. Kneeling with my sensitive butt on my heels, I cautiously unzipped his fly, careful not to trap his pole. I gently freed his pecker and gasped when it was exposed to me. I was inexperienced, and it looked huge to me. It was long, thick, veiny, and had a large purple helmet on top. It looked like a giant mushroom... I touched it gently, feeling its velvety texture. It jerked between my fingers. He moaned softly.

Next, I compressed the spongy head somewhat and engulfed it with my lips. It tasted musky, soapy, and fresh. It was clear he took a shower prior to meeting me. I started going down on his prick, gradually letting more of it invade my oral cavity. Professor Bonham's eyes were hypnotized by my lips moving on his member, and his pulse rate increased.

I felt I was going to choke when about 2" were left out. I stopped pulling it in and began bobbing his rod. I did it slowly, pressing with my tongue against his cock, pushing it up onto my palate. The sensation was new and... arousing. Noticing his excitement heighten rapidly, enhanced my horniness too, and my fingers found my swollen clitoris and tweaked it. Just seconds after my climax took over me, I felt his organ spasm, and my mouth getting filled with slimy stuff. I attempted to retreat, but his hands held the back of my head, and I had to swallow fast his continuous stream or drown. My orgasm was indescribable: Cumming while trying to swallow his juices was something else...

When he finished, I wobbled onto my feet and stood before him naked from the waist down. He inspected my cunt and blurted, "Your blow job was excellent. I forgive you. Next Tuesday, I expect you here again. I suspect you'll have additional mistakes. If that is the case, I may start with spanking, but move to find out if the rest of your body is as sexy as your mouth and ass."

I dressed up, avoiding his eyes and left.

...

As I was driving home, I found myself holding the wheel with my left, while my right was gently playing with my covered pussy. Dear god, what was happening to me? I was turning into a lousy worker, spank craving, sex seeker slut... The thought of my downhill path did not escape me, yet the physical gratification was enormous and managed to erase everything else.

I waited anxiously for next Tuesday. I was no longer frightened, but... excited.

I went over Professor Bonham's file again, corrected the prior errors, and on the front page I scribbled 'Expect your total investment portfolio's annual increase to be at least 125%'.

On Tuesday, I showed up wearing a short red dress with a low neckline, matching color 3" heel shoes, and shiny red lipstick. He opened the door and inspected me, speechless. He let me inside and followed me. His eyes burned my swaying butt cheeks.

I handed him the file. He glanced at the front page, grinned, and blurted, "Undress!"

Without taking my eyes off of him, I slowly began to strip. In my mind, I was on a stage, performing a striptease. He was my only audience, and I needed to see his approval.

He sat down, and as my dress fell to the floor, his eyes focused on my covered ample tits. My hands moved back and unclasped my pink bra, allowing it to slip onto the dress. His eyes widened, and the front of his pants began protruding. I bounced my chest from side to side, jiggling my boobs before his face. His respiration turned shallow, and his erection became more visible. I smiled at him and gradually lowered the panties waistband, exposing my cunt to his hungry eyes. He was still silent, but licked his lips as his stare wandered from my pussy to my nipples and then down again.

"Professor Bonham, did I pass the strip test?"

His voice sounded raspy, "Not bad, but after showing a total disrespect to my investment, a punishment is in order."