© 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.
