Scarlet: 1000 Forbidden Touches

My student and I 1

Professor Dirk

I was sweating. Not the light sheen you get from a warm lecture hall—the kind that soaks through your shirt and makes your collar stick to your neck. My palms were slick on the edges of the podium, my pulse hammering in my ears louder than the rustle of notebooks.

Mary was in the second row again.

The redhead freshman had come dressed like she was auditioning for every dark fantasy I’d ever tried to bury. That pleated plaid skirt was criminally short—barely brushing the tops of her thighs when she sat. The white button-up was stretched tight across her chest, top three buttons undone so that every time she leaned forward (and she leaned forward a lot), I got an unobstructed view of pale, perfect breasts. No bra. Just soft, round swells tipped with pink n*****s that hardened under my gaze like they knew exactly what they were doing to me.

I’m thirty-five. Too old for this. Too young to be a full professor, maybe, which is probably why half the female students sign up for Abnormal Psychology every semester. They like the “young, hot professor” angle. I usually ignore it. I lecture, I grade, I go home. But this section—s****l abnormalities, fetishes, paraphilias—always makes me want to sprint through the slides and never look up from my notes.

Because I have one.

The schoolgirl. The naughty Catholic girl in the plaid skirt and pigtails who needs discipline. Who bends over a desk and takes her punishment until her ass glows red and she’s whimpering apologies. I’ve spent years fantasizing about it in private—never thinking it would walk into my classroom wearing Mary’s face.

Today, she’d gone all in—red hair in high pigtails tied with black ribbons. Mary Jane is on her feet. White knee socks. And when she “accidentally” dropped her pen halfway up the stairs to the back row—no one ever sits in the back rows—she bent at the waist, slow and deliberate, skirt riding up to show me everything.

No panties. No thong. Just smooth pale ass cheeks and the slick pink slit between them, glistening like she’d been touching herself before class. My c**k jerked so hard I nearly groaned out loud.

I gripped the podium until my knuckles whitened and forced my mouth to keep moving. The lecture poured out on autopilot—something about voyeurism, exhibitionism, power exchange. Words I barely heard myself say because all I could see was Mary in the back row, legs parted just enough that I could make out the shine of arousal on her inner thighs. At one point, she lifted a hand to her chest, casually tugged the open edges of her blouse wider, and pinched one n****e between her fingers while staring straight at me.

I almost came in my slacks.

When the hour finally ended, I dropped into my chair behind the desk and pretended to sort papers. Students filed out. Voices faded down the hall. I kept my head down, praying she’d leave with them.

She didn’t.

Mary stopped beside my desk, hip c****d, one hand resting on the edge like she owned the place. Those big green eyes looked down at me, all innocence wrapped in sin.

“Professor? I have a problem.”

I cleared my throat. It felt full of gravel. “Yes… Mary?”

She smiled—slow, wicked—and walked to the door. Click. The lock turned.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

She turned back, advancing on me like she had all the time in the world. “We’ve been talking about s****l abnormalities and fetishes in class… and I think I have one. I’m not really sure what to do about it.”

I should have stopped her and sent her away. Reported myself to the dean before this went any further.

Instead, I sat there, frozen, while she reached up and brushed one lengthy pigtail over her shoulder.

“I’ve always wanted to sleep with someone in authority,” she said softly. Her fingers moved to the remaining buttons of her blouse. One by one, they slipped free. “A teacher, mostly. Lately, it’s all I can think about.” The shirt fell open. Pale breasts spilled out, n*****s tight and begging. She toyed with one, rolling it between her fingers. “So I’m wondering… what your fetish might be, Professor Dirk.”

My voice came out hoarse, unrecognizable. “Bend over the desk.”

She arched one perfect eyebrow. Then she obeyed.

Forearms on the wood, as presented, skirt riding up on its own. Breasts hanging free, swaying slightly with her breathing. The sight of her like that—my fantasy made flesh—snapped something inside me.

I stood. Came around behind her. Lifted the hem of that tiny skirt until it bunched at her waist.

Smack!

My palm cracked across one pale cheek. A bright red handprint bloomed instantly. She jumped, gasped, but settled right back into position.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

I spanked her steadily, watching the color spread, watching her lily-white skin turn pink, then red. Each impact made her jolt forward, made her whimper. The sounds she made—half pain, half pleasure—went straight to my c**k. I was so hard it hurt.

After a dozen or so, she was trembling, barely holding herself up. Tears glistened on her lashes. Still, she didn’t move. Didn’t beg me to stop.

I kept going. Harder. Faster. Until her ass was a burning, glowing crimson, and she was sobbing softly against the desk.

Only then did I pause. Ran my palm over the hot, tender flesh. Felt her shiver under my touch.

And realized she was dripping.

Her thighs were slick, juices running down in thin rivulets. The brutal spanking had turned her on as much as it had me.

I groaned. Fumbled with my belt, my zipper. My c**k sprang free—thick, leaking, aching.

One thrust and I was buried inside her tight, wet cunt.

She moaned loud enough to echo. I f****d her hard, hips slapping against her punished ass, each impact reigniting the sting. She pushed back to meet me, wiggling, whimpering, taking every inch.

I was close—too close—when she looked back over her shoulder, eyes glassy.

“In my ass,” she whispered. “Please, Professor… come in my ass.”

I almost lost it right then.

I pulled out, slick with her, and pressed against that tight little hole. One brutal push and I was inside—hot, vise-tight, perfect. I grabbed her pigtails like reins, yanked her head back, and f****d her ass with short, rough strokes.

She came first—shaking, crying out, fingers pinching her own n*****s as her hole clenched around me in rhythmic pulses.

That was it. I buried myself deep and came hard, flooding her ass with pulse after pulse until it leaked out around my c**k.

When I finally pulled free, she collapsed across the desk. Red ass up, c*m dripping from her stretched hole, blouse still hanging open. Beautiful. Ruined. Mine.

I stood there panting, spent, the reality of what I’d just done crashing over me like cold water.

She lifted her head, looked at me with those big, dazed eyes, and smiled.

“Professor… I need another spanking.”

I swallowed hard.

God help me.

I wanted to give it to her.