Cindy: the Professor's Bane

© 2004 by MLyons

Author's Note: The following story and the characters within it are purely a product of my imagination, and they are meant to be enjoyed only as a fantasy. Any similarity to real people or events is unintentional.

Reproduction of this story in any form without express written permission from the author is prohibited.

Synopsis of Chapter 2: Johnson received a large wooden crate, and watched the videotape that Cindy gave him as homework. It was the last tape he'd made of Sarah Jennings, 10 years previous. The purpose of him having to watch the tape was unclear to Johnson. Cindy finally arrived, and more turn-the-tables humiliation was in the cards for the Professor, along with a long bout of cock-teasing dress up games where Cindy's method to her madness started to take shape. Finally, desperate to fuck after having been ruthlessly teased and denied all evening, Johnson was allowed to open his present.

Chapter 3

Stephen Johnson stared into the stout wooden crate in his garage. Inside, slouched onto a wooden shelf, was a lifeless female figure strapped into place in the box. It was a doll. It was one of the most life-like dolls he'd ever seen, but it was a doll nonetheless. It might have fooled him into thinking that it was meant for display as a mannequin in a shop if it wasn't for the slightly parted lips of its rubber mouth, the tip of its flat tongue peaking out from behind them, and the fancy paper card that was pinned to its tank top. The flowery handwriting was now all too familiar.

'Professor Johnson's Little Slut'

"Do you like her Professor?" Cindy asked happily. "Don't you want to fuck her?" She squinted her delicate eyes with the word for emphasis.

Johnson was speechless. His mind reeled with a combination of desperate lust and self-loathing. He was at once a lump of clay to be used, and a taut spring ready to snap.

Cindy approached the doll giddily. "See!" she gushed with excitement as the doll's malleable tit reacted authentically to Cindy's mauling fingers.

"Don't you like her boobies, Professor?" Cindy couldn't contain her excitement. "How about this mouth," her finger pushed down on the doll's bottom lip revealing its waiting silicone tongue. "Do you like her tongue, Professor? Don't you want her to lick your dick for you?" Cindy's face was glowing with a wide-eyed energy. It strangely softened the Professor's heart, even as his humiliation deepened.

"I'll bet she'll suck your cock if you ask her." Cindy was saying as the Professor continued to stare at the doll. It was dressed sexily, with a printed white tube top, a pair of skimpy shorts, and some understated high heels.

Cindy grabbed one of the doll's articulated hands and stuffed it into its shorts as if it was diddling its clit underneath. Given the way the doll moved, it seemed to boast of an anatomically correct skeleton underneath its soft silicone exterior. "See, she's already horny for you!"

Johnson just felt more debased. As he stared, stunned, at this meticulously crafted concoction of silicone and steel, it was now becoming clear to him that she was going to make him fuck the doll, and she was going to watch. He hated himself for it, but the deepest cut of all was that his over-teased cock was ready to take what it could get. The blonde teenager's tangy pussy juice still lingered in his mouth, sticking to the sides of his cheeks and seeping into the taste buds on his tongue. Images of the tiny capillaries in Cindy's smooth inner thighs, and the wispy hairs on her slender forearms still lingered in his mind. He wanted to ravage her--to pick her up, throw her on the floor and pork her teasing cunt in a way that befitted her whorish outfit. He worried that before too long, even her threats of prison might not be enough to stop him.

"Well?" Cindy had bounced her way over to Johnson. Her necklace, plainly displaying the word "Skank" in gold letters, jingled around her neck. She looked up at him. "Don't you like her?" Her eager blue eyes captured his, begging not to be disappointed.

Johnson finally mustered a little self-awareness. He closed his gaping mouth, and looked back at the grinning young teenager--stunned.

"Cindy, I. . ." he didn't know what to say.

"Aww, poor Professor," Cindy pouted at him, looking down at his shameless erection. "You're so cute. You're like a horny little puppy." She shifted her legs underneath her. "Gosh Professor, I'm pretty wet too, huh?" Cindy reached down and placed her hand in front of her mini-skirt. She looked into his eyes and with a deliberate motion, pushed inward, stretching the material up and between her luscious thighs, rubbing it against her bare pussy underneath. She shifted her hand and spread her legs slightly, and although Johnson couldn't see it, he could imagine her wet lips spreading and stretching as she used the front of her skirt to wipe them off.

"Geez," she sighed with obvious, conflicted pleasure as her eyes fluttered closed. Her head floated back on her shoulders as her hand worked a few passes over her hidden slit. "What the heck?" she whispered almost inaudibly, betraying a kind of surprise and frustration with herself--as if she'd forgotten he was there. Her eyes slowly opened once again and focused on Johnson, whose gaze was locked on the hypnotically expressive girl.

She bit her bottom lip in a mischievous grin, seeming to know what Johnson wanted before he did. "Here you go, little puppy." Her hand released the tension on the material and she knelt by the waist, allowing her ass to stretch her miniskirt. His eyes fixated on her butt and lingered downward along the bare small of her back to her sheer blouse, and her thin black tube top underneath. His gaze focused on her glistening fingers as she lowered her hand only inches from the floor of Johnson's garage.

"Come on little puppy. Come on."

It was humiliating how desperate he was to taste her again. He dropped his bare knees to the concrete floor. He wished he had been able to see the crack of the freshman's ass as her cheeks strained against her miniskirt. His cock screamed for her dripping twat.

"Come on, you horny little puppy. All the way down." The back of Cindy's hand rested against the garage floor, her juice slicked fingers wiggling at him. Johnson dropped to his hands and passed her flushed face as he abjected himself in front of her. He seethed with hateful helplessness. "Go on," she whispered. He longed to feel her nose poking against the scratchy, shaved skin of his ball sack as he splayed the slut on her back at his kitchen table and gag-fucked her. The unmerciful images of retaliatory grudge fucking would not give his filthy mind any peace. The dangling gold letters of her necklace glittered at him.

Finally, Johnson enveloped her sticky finger with his mouth, once again tasting her fresh juice. Cindy tittered above him. She removed her finger from his mouth and quickly stood back upright, positioning her strappy slut-heel only inches from his face.

"While you're down there, Professor. . ." the smooth skin of her foot was buckled tightly into place. He could see the thin straps crisscrossing her calves and tied off just below the knee as his eyes continued upward.

Peeking out from the outline of her miniskirt, partially obscured in shadow, was Cindy's bald twat. He felt sickeningly subservient to it, his face now lingering just above his student's foot. Her slit glistened from the light that the skirt allowed through to illuminate it. With a defiant will, he broke off his gaze at her pouty cunt and looked to her face. The tiny blonde seemed to tower above him. He could smell her aroma radiating from under her damp skirt, and the lingering taste of her juice on his tongue made his body shudder. He was frantic with the desire to teach the cock-teasing princess her proper place.

"Why don't you show me your place, little doggy." She wiggled her foot under his lips. Cindy's hair dangled in front of her shoulder and beside her cheek as she stared down into his eyes, breathing shakily through her mouth. Johnson could detect a shuddering in her thighs, an unsteadiness that betrayed her raw sexual energy.

Johnson's mixture of humiliation and hunger for this sweet slut above him was confusing and overpowering. He wanted to taste her skin, even if he was meant to lick her slut-heels to do it. He buckled his elbows and brushed his tongue along her smooth foot.

"Good, boy." Cindy whispered above him. "Unbuckle them with your teeth."

Johnson tasted her clean skin on his tongue, and his cock was as hard as ever. He longed to use her, to get his brutal satisfaction, even as he slid his tongue along the leather encasing her foot. He ran his teeth across the buckle of her shoe and pulled the strap loose. The buckle released.

"Good, now use your teeth and untie my legs, you dirty foot licker." Her oppressive calves sprouted upward above him, and he felt as small as a mouse underneath her. His tongue slid upward along the straps and skin below her knees.

His mind imagined that he was licking her face from chin to eyebrow, slopping his saliva over her pretty features so that it dripped down her cheeks. He imagined pinning her thin arms down as his dick slipped in and out of her abused slut-hole, not allowing her to wipe the spit off her face.

He savored the taste of her salty flesh as he desperately yearned for both sexual release, and freedom from her humiliating tyranny.

"Professor, don't you want to fuck?" Cindy's playful voice floated above him.

He wanted to ignore her. He knew what she wanted, and he didn't want to give it to her. His teeth grasped the tiny strap just below her knee, tied into a tight bow. He pulled and it released, and at once the straps imprisoning her calf were loosened, the pattern of them still etched into her tight flesh.

"Help me out of it, Professor," ordered Cindy. "And you haven't answered me yet. Don't you want to fuck her?"

Johnson raised his hands and pulled down on the straps as Cindy raised her foot out of the complicated shoe. Once again he caught a taunting glimpse of her petulant cunt lips above him.

"Don't you think she's pretty? Come on, suck on my toes and beg me, Professor." She held her red polished toes only inches from his mouth.

Johnson could no longer deny his needs. "Please." he said finally, as his girl-hungry lips enclosed Cindy's middle toe.

"Please, what?"

"Please, let me fuck her." Johnson couldn't believe he was saying it. His tongue slipped over her nail polished toes, sliding between them, as he savored the sweaty taste. The disgusting mental image he had of himself at this moment was mortifying.

"You mean your dolly, Professor?" Cindy giggled as she wriggled her toes inside Johnson's drooling mouth. "Come on, beg me for it, little Slick Prick." He could hear the girlish grin through her voice.

"Please, let me fuck my dolly." He hated the words. The images of a desperate man, forced to masturbate himself inside a horrendously expensive sex doll stabbed at his brain.

"Yay!" Cindy praised as if she'd just successfully potty trained him. She guided his head down with her toes so that he was sucking them as her heel rested on the concrete floor. "I'm not sure I should let you, you filthy horn-dog!" She yanked her foot from his mouth and quickly stepped on the side of his head, bringing his face in direct contact with the cement below. Her saliva-slicked toes tickled against his ear. His knees ached; his ass thrust in the air behind him. His straining eyes once again traced along her perfect leg curves all the way up to the shadowy outline of her juicy pussy. Johnson was once again made to ask for what Cindy wanted.

"C'mon. Beg."

"Please," he said, his lips squeezed together, trapped between Cindy's soft foot and the garage floor, "Let me fuck my dolly."

How much more of this was he going to have to take?

"Well, I don't know, Professor." Her bare foot still resting on his face, Cindy bent down to release her other leg from the confines of its sexy heel. He could see her fingers manipulating the buckle as her sole pressed against his cheek. His status as her footrest was revolting to him, yet his cock raged, bobbing below his belly. He wanted to jack it off, or cut it off.

She finally released Johnson's head from underfoot and slipped her other leg out of the loosened shoe. "Take your dolly into the living room for me, and put her on the couch. I need to visit the little girl's room one more time." She looked down at his dusty face and shook her finger at him with a playful sternness. "Now, Professor, don't you dare cum without me. You just bring her over and sit next to her while you wait for me." She giggled, "Maybe you could whisper sweet nothings into her ear while you slip off her pretty clothes."

Suddenly her cute features brightened with a revelation. "Wait, I know what you'll like, Professor!" her gaze settled on the limp straps of the heeled shoe Johnson had removed with his teeth. "Since she is your little slut, why don't you dress her up just like one of your students? Make her wear these." She smiled as she kicked the lazy straps of the shoe into his face. "God that'll be hot! " she decided, bouncing above his sickeningly obedient form like a giddy child. She clapped her hands adorably, "You'll have the rest of her outfit in a jif. Don't go anywhere now!" She had an air of innocent fun that gave no indication of what she was capable of.

Cindy darted off into the bathroom, and Johnson, with his anguished hard-on, grudgingly began un-strapping his silicone sex-date from her box.

- - - -

The physical exertion of carrying the unwieldy sex doll into his living room had allowed Johnson to recover some of his lucidity. The combination of his own endorphins and Cindy's potent pheromones had kept him off balance and in a haze of arousal and debasement. He was still desperate to fuck. His nerves were raw, and he'd long since given up hope of knowing what Cindy ultimately wanted from him. Perhaps it was to be this kind of sexual torture of denial indefinitely--but why? Perhaps he did deserve this. Perhaps he deserved worse, but even if he did, the most mysterious question of them all plagued his mind: who was Cindy, really?

She was clearly not to be underestimated. She'd had this doll waiting in storage for months. There were careful plans behind her eyes, as well as anger--and sadness. It frightened him. She had him by the balls. One thing was certain. Underneath her beautifully cute, happy-go-lucky persona was a selfish, ruthless girl with what seemed to be a boundless sexual energy. What's more, her constantly wet pussy seemed to be fueled directly by his humiliation. Her sensual reactions to his most debasing moments were nerve racking, and yet so disgustingly exciting. His internal conflicts played into her hands, and somehow, instinctively, she knew it.

He had followed orders and undressed the sex doll, although he had omitted Cindy's suggestion of whispering sweet nothings. He hadn't had a chance to put Cindy's heels on the doll before she finally came out of the bathroom. His sex-saturated senses were once again assaulted with another of her archetypal fuck-fantasy images.

Cindy stood outside the door of the hall bathroom. She bit the nail of her little finger as she grinned at him in a completely congruent gesture of innocence befitting her new outfit. Her hair was now tied back into two tight pigtails. She wore a round collared, white button up shirt with hemmed short sleeves, once again showing off her delicate arms. Around her waist was a plaid catholic schoolgirl skirt that hung just above her knees. White lacy knee socks and shiny black shoes completed the prick-teasing image.

"Do you like schoolgirls too, Professor?" She twisted her torso back and forth over her hips.

Johnson sighed unsteadily, his overworked cock once again reacting to the girl in front of him, seemingly with a mind of its own.

"Not as much as sluts, huh?" she decided. "Well, you might change your mind. Come on, Slick Prick. Get up, and crawl over here."

Johnson obediently lifted himself off the couch. As he crawled up to her, she grabbed a handful of clothes from the bathroom and held them out for him to take.

"Here professor, these are for your slut over there." She beamed at him. They were the clothes she just had on, complete with her "skank" necklace on top.

"Oh, my pussy was kinda messy, so I wiped it off with my skirt." Her eyes and mouth squinted upward as if in an unfortunate warning, "It's still a little damp. Sorry."

Johnson sat on his knees in front of her and took the clothing. He resisted the urge in his gut to bury his nose in the outfit and treat his senses to the full force of the fruity body fragrances and lusty cunt-juice that seeped into the air.

"Come on, go dress her up, Professor." Cindy said giddily.

The doll had a body type that was somewhat curvier than Cindy's. It had slightly larger breasts and longer legs, in addition to being a brunette, complete with a runway of trimmed pussy hair. It was remarkably life-like to the touch, with high-grade silicone enveloping a steel skeleton that was for all intents and purposes, anatomically correct. The result was the perfect sex doll, but one that was exceptionally heavy and difficult to manipulate.

Cindy sat across from the spectacle and watched, laughing occasionally as Johnson struggled with his doll, trying to squeeze Cindy's tiny whore outfit around the limp figure. It took a great amount of effort cramming the doll's ample breasts into Cindy's small tube top and stretching her damp miniskirt around the doll's shapely legs. When he finally got to strapping up the heels, Cindy giggled at him again.

"Professor, you're not very good at this are you?"

Johnson sweated with his effort and seethed at her mockery. He responded with silence, but Cindy would not be ignored.

"Come on, Professor, talk to me!" she whined. "You've been awfully quiet tonight."

Johnson couldn't think of anything he wanted to say to her.

"So when you played with your students," Cindy continued un-phased, "did you dress them up yourself, or did you make them do it?"

Struggling with the straps of the heels, and purposefully not looking at her, Johnson reacted without thinking, "Played with them? Come on." He caught himself. He really couldn't deny it. "I'm really not comfortable talking about it, Cindy." His fatigued frustration was getting the better of him.

"Well, tell me anyway, Slick Prick." Cindy's spoiled tone of voice disregarded his comfort. He hated the name more each time she used it.

Johnson sighed, "I sometimes bought them clothes, and they put them on, Okay?" Something possessed him to fight back his humiliation and really take a good look at her. Her blue eyes and soft eyebrows betrayed a youthful energy that seemed the antithesis to her ruthless capacity for domination. It was simply bewildering.

"Well," she stared straight back at him, "that certainly explains a lot." Her eyes broke from his and looked at the loose and uneven straps lying around the doll's calves. Cindy leaned forward on the chair and placed her elbows on her knees, while resting her head in her hands. He could feel her eyes watching him as he continued to struggle with the doll. "Then what would you do?" she asked earnestly.

"What do you mean?" he semi-successfully tied off the first shoe.

"Well, you fucked them, right?" she giggled in her small palms as her pigtails bounced behind her.

Johnson sighed again as he looked downward, remembering why he didn't like looking at her bright eyes when she blurted out such things. "Yes."

"Wow." Her eyes drifted away for an instant. Johnson could only interpret it as girlish admiration. If nothing else, he thought, Cindy was full of surprises. She came back, "So, did they like it?"