Symphony Of Control

TITLE: The Professor’s Little Baby S1 Theme: Professor×Student, List, and submission. PROLOGUE Aria, a wild art student, fell into a dangerous obsessive affair with her cold professor Kendrick after he discovered her erotic fantasies about him. What started as raw, forbidden s*x spiraled into twisted emotions, secrets and power games— until a short trip to Paris changed everything. CHAPTER ONE Aria's POV “Do you want me to f**k you right here on my desk, Aria?” His voice was low, sharp, and dangerous. "Yes… please," I gasped, breathless. Buttons burst open as he tore my shirt. My bra nearly kept my massive t**s under control, before his tongue found one. He sucked hard, teeth over my n****e. I moaned very loudly. Professor Kendrick snarled as he lowered my panties "You're soaked already. " "You're always wet for me, aren't you, you filthy little slut?" I nodded, legs sprawled open across his desk. "Yes, always. I think about you every night, torturing me and choking me as I moan your name.” He fell to his knees and buried his face between my thighs. Slow then rapid, his tongue licked my c**t. My hips jerked from ecstasy. "Oh f**k! Right there!” I screamed, grabbing his hair. While he still sucked my c**t, he inserted two fingers inside me. My legs trembling, I screamed. Standing up, he whispered, "Such a messy little bitch." His thick, veiny, hard c**k thrashed against my thigh. "Are you prepared for me?" I couldn't inhale. "Please, Professor. I need it. Shove it in—" “Ev…Everything.” I said amidst fast breathing. He crashed into me. I moaned once more, nails digging into his back. "Say my name." I shouted, "Professor Kendrick! " "Louder!" "f*****g me, Professor Kendrick! " He hammered at me constantly. The desk shook under us. With every powerful thrust, he grunted. My p***y clenched around him, so f*****g full! “God, yes! yes! f**k me harder.” “Take everything, slut. Swallow this c**k like the filthy girl you are.” I sensed the orgasm rushing, quick, heated, violent— “Aria!” My eyes suddenly flew open. Everyone in class was watching me. Shit! "Aria," Professor Kendrick said once more, voice stiff. "Did you hear the question?" My heart pounded in my ears as I blinked. My thighs were trembling. My knickers were dripping—no, soaked. I tried to inhale. I tried to act natural. Then I sensed it. One palm. still between my legs. My gaze traveled to Jake, a frat jerk who always fixed his attention on my boobs in class. His hand was beneath the table. His index and pointer fingers buried in my p***y. I stopped still. He smirked and whispered, “You were moaning, nerdy; I assumed you wanted it.” I pulled his hand away, biting my tongue to prevent screaming. Focus and answer the goddamn question. "Um. . . yeah," I stammered. "It's charcoal sketching. Utilized for base shadows in still life.” Kendrick stared at me long. Then gave a little nod. "Correct." Red-face, heart racing, I retreated into my chair. The class felt long but at last it ended. I packed up quickly, shunning Jake's smirk. Just as I reached the doorway— “Aria, Stay behind.” I froze. Arms crossed, Professor Kendrick stood by his desk. He stepped closer when the last student left. His tone was deep yet clear. "This is not the first time you have spaced out during my lesson." I apologized, eyes lowered. He passed by me, then turned back as if he was stifling something more potent. "You're smart. One of the most brilliant students in the department. But today? In class, You moaned in class. You ignored a question. You looked… gone.” I swallowed hard. “I know you and your boyfriend are young and vibrant but you shouldn't be playing adults in my class…” “He's not my boyfriend…” I cut in but he quickly shut me down with a disgusted look. “The next time this happens…” He continued to speak, but I was unable to concentrate. His lips. The way they curled when he spoke. Firm, Pink, with sharp corners— Like they would have a cold taste but feel hot. His hands—s**t. Large and veiny. The way they moved when he spoke. I pictured them wrapped on my neck. One hand gripping my wrists, the other shoving me dip— He said, "Aria." “You’re spacing out again.” I blinked uncontrollably. My legs closed tight. My panties were wet once more. I wasn't aware either. He smacked his palm on the table. The sound echoed across the room. Heart pounding, I leaped. He slowly shook his head. "You're beyond redemption." And just like that, he grabbed his note and walked out. I stood there trembling, soaked, and ashamed. **** Later At Home I sat on my bed with just a loose tank top. no brassiere. No shorts. I'd wanted to study a bit but I found myself scrolling through Kendrick's i********: profile on my laptop. God, that one picture. I got closer. His arms. His lips. That stare. Gradually spreading my legs, I met my p***y moist. I gently circled my finger over my c******s. "Mmm. . . shit." I imagined him not saying a word but just grabbing me, pushing me against the wall. His hands are wrecking my opening. His lips on my breasts, strongly sucking on them. Teasing me until I cried. I rubbed even harder. I slid two fingers in. Then three. My cunt tightened around them. I whispered, “Choke me… ruin me… f**k me till I can’t walk. ” I envision him spanking me. To unfurl myself. Behind me pounding while I shouted into the pillow. “Oh—f**k—yes!” I moaned loudly. I continued thrusting. With my other hand, I rubbed my c**t quickly. His voice sounded in my head: You belong to me, Aria. Only mine. I came hard, shaking, eyes rolling back, moaning his name again and again. My legs throbbed. My fingers were soaked. With my chest rising fast, I sat there in the mess. Still, I craved more. As I went to the restroom for a fast shower, suddenly, thoughts surged over me. I was known to be a nerd. Always in a hoodie, the art freak. I was always alone, attended no event, did no make-up or even laughed for no reason. Only me, my sketchbook, and my filthy little daydreams. The guys at school didn't ask me out. They looked at each other. Whispered. Some asked for homework assistance merely to become closer. Some even attempted to flirt, referring to me as "sexy geek" like it was unique. But every time it ended the same: they wanted what was beneath the hoodie. They wanted to screw the good girl. Only once. Then ghost me. Like my ex, Dylan. We were barely a couple in any way. We merely f****d. Fast, messy s*x in his car or at the school toilet. No kisses. No actual dates. He used to refer to me as his "stress reliever." And I let him. Because I wished someone would want me—even if it was untrue. I wanted more than just c**k and mere touches. I hoped to be desired, controlled, worshipped and claimed. And for some dumb reason, every time I glanced at Professor Kendrick, I felt as though he was the only one capable of giving it to me. Though it felt forbidden, I still craved it.