Sarah sat down in her Professor's office. His easy chair was soft and comfortable. She trusted him, but she knew she had some bad grades to explain for.
"What brings you here today?" asked Professor Williams.
"It's been a hard couple of weeks." Sarah admitted. "I just can't concentrate on my work lately. I sit down to do a problem set, and my mind just starts running away from me. It's not like me. But I promise I'll submit last week's homework as soon as po-"
"Your situation isn't great," the Professor said, "You've missed a few classes, you're behind on homework, and you just don't seem to be applying yourself in class. Very spacey. Kind of a bimbo, in my opinion." His chair made him a few inches higher than her. He looked down at her imperiously.
"I am willing to be lenient about this. You seem to be under a great deal of stress. Some people just aren't cut out for this competitive field. I notice it a lot in women. You get stressed out, and start to forget things. Your minds seem to wander. Maybe you have another purpose elsewhere."
Sarah narrowed her eyes. That didn't seem right. She wasn't sure that was an appropriate thing to say. She'd worked hard to get to where she was, and she didn't think her gender had anything to do with her school troubles. But by the time she'd processed the idea, Professor Williams was already talking again.
"No, you just seem very stressed out right now. I think the best thing would be for you to close your eyes, relax, and slow your breathing. No need to think too hard about my words. No need to think too hard about the thoughts in your head. All you need to do is sink into your chair and relax. Nothing else matters."
Sarah couldn't remember what she'd wanted to say. Professor Williams' office was warm.
"You're so tired, Sarah. You're always tired when you're here. You're always tired and warm, and sometimes even hot. It makes you happy when I help you relax. Say that for me:"
"It makes me happy when you help me relax". Sarah slumped down in her chair. Her eyes felt heavy. Her whole body was hot.
"Good girl", said Professor Williams, "You're exactly where you need to be. Everything I say makes perfect sense. It's crystal clear. It's so easy to listen to me. Thinking for yourself is hard, isn't it?"
"Thinking for myself..
is
hard." Sarah realized. She was so grateful Professor Williams was explaining things for her.
"Your studies have been so difficult. It's very hard for you to think about math when your body is so easily available to distract you. I don't blame you. Anyone who looked at your wide hips and huge tits could tell you were fertile and horny."
For a minute Sarah was disoriented. Tits? Hips? It seemed out of context. He was her teacher. But in her confusion, wondering about tits, her hand crept up to her tank top. She did have big tits. She felt a chill, and her nipples stood out against her shirt. She twisted her right nipple between her thumb and finger and felt a thrill go through her whole body. Didn't she usually wear a bra?
"Such an obedient girl already. I remember when you used to put up a fight." said the Professor. "Your legs feel so warm and heavy. You'll feel better if you relax and spread them wide open."
Her blue skirt tented across her tan thighs, and he caught a glimpse of her white panties. She spread her legs wider and wider. She looked up at him with big and sleepy eyes. Her mouth was starting to hang open.
"Is this good, Professor?" she asked.
"You're getting there." He said sharply. Sarah noticed Professor Williams was hard. His thick cock was stiff against his slacks. And she realized was masturbating without even realizing it. Her right hand had never left her hard nipple. She was tweaking it and pulling on it. She rubbed her already soaking cunt desperately with her left hand.
"I knew you were a slut when I met you." He said. "You're coming along so nicely. You'll become more and more submissive to me and my will. I'll own you. You will be unable to imagine a life not spent serving me. You belong on your knees. Repeat that."
"I belong on my knees." She said reflexively. He had said it. It must be true.
"Lift up your tank top, Sarah. Expose your boobs. Leave them exposed for me."
She cooperated willingly. She tingled. Compliance felt good. She was obedient.
"Take off your panties and give them to me."
She cooperated. Her panties were warm. She could tell they were already wet. She handed them to him, flushed with shame. He was still her Professor. It wouldn't do to be wet around him.
"Get on your knees." He said.
She cooperated. She sank to her knees, eye level with his groin. He stood up from his chair and towered over her. She looked up at him, pathetic and diminutive, her tits exposed and her fingers buried in her cunt. He took a deep sniff of her panties, and then smiled at her wickedly. He came close to her, very close, so that she could almost feel the heat of his cock beneath his pants. He smothered her face with her own filthy panties. All she could breathe was the smell of her own cunt. The smell turned her on. Her eyes glazed over with obedience. Then, he stuffed the panties into her mouth so that she couldn't speak at all.
"Good. This really suits a girl like you." He said. "Little sluts who think they know everything cause too many problems. We'd both be so much happier if you learned your place. And it's obvious from your hot little pussy that your place is on your knees."
