Scarlet: 1000 Forbidden Touches

My student and I 3

Thwack! Crack!

The yardstick bit into her flesh with a sharp, satisfying snap. Two fresh red stripes bloomed across the pale curves of her ass, bright against the already mottled pink. Mary jumped, a high, startled howl escaping her lips as her cheeks jiggled from the force. The sound went straight to my c**k—already leaking, throbbing, barely contained.

I didn’t stop.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

I laid stripe after stripe, methodical at first, then harder, faster. The wood whistled through the air before it connected, each impact sending ripples across her heart-shaped ass. Her skin turned from pale to flushed to angry crimson, welts rising in perfect overlapping lines like a map of every filthy thought I’d had about her since the first day she walked into my class. She danced on her toes, hips swaying, sobs breaking into whimpers that made my balls ache.

Harder. The yardstick sang. Her ass danced for me—quivering, clenching, begging without words.

Then—CRACK!—a terrific splintering sound. The yardstick broke clean in half across the fullest part of her right cheek. The broken end clattered to the floor. I stared at the ruined wood in my hand for half a second, chest heaving, then dropped it.

I stepped forward. Grabbed her slim hips—pale fingers digging into soft skin—and lined myself up.

One thrust and I was buried in her dripping p***y. Hot. Slick. So tight it blurred my vision. I pumped a few times—hard, shallow—groaning at the way her walls fluttered and squeezed like they were trying to pull me deeper. She moaned low, pushing back, greedy.

But I wanted more.

I pulled out—slick with her—and slammed into her ass without warning.

Mary’s back arched violently. She squealed—high, sharp, almost animal—as my c**k stretched her open. The heat of her punished cheeks pressed against my hips with every brutal thrust. The sting must have been unbearable; I could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the welts bumping against me like raised ridges. She whimpered, sobbed, but her hole clenched around me tighter with every cry, milking me like she loved the pain.

I f****d her ass relentlessly. Long, punishing strokes that made her body jolt forward against the desk. My hands slid up, found her bouncing breasts, pinched her swollen pink n*****s between my fingers—hard enough to make her gasp—and used them like handles to yank her back onto my c**k. Deeper. Harder. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the office, obscene and echoing.

Between her thighs, her fingers worked frantically at her c**t. The tiny plaid skirt fluttered and flipped with every thrust, a ridiculous flag of surrender. She was lost—moaning, babbling, her whole body trembling.

I felt it building—balls tightening, pressure coiling low in my gut. Her asshole convulsed around me in rhythmic spasms, gripping like a fist.

“Oh god, Professor—” Her voice cracked, frantic. Fingers rubbing faster. “Oh god, I’m coming! Oh god, I’m dirty! f**k my ass—f**k my dirty, slutty ass!”

She shattered.

Her whole body locked up—back bowing, thighs shaking, a raw scream tearing from her throat. Her ass clamped down so hard I saw stars. That vise-tight grip dragged me over the edge.

I pulled out at the last second—stumbling back against the wall, hand flying to my c**k. Hot ropes of c*m erupted across her bright-red ass, splattering the welts, dripping down the cleft, one thick glob sliding slowly over her puckered hole and down her thigh until it hit the lacy top of her white stocking.

Mary stayed bent over the desk, panting, trembling. Her ass was a masterpiece—crimson, striped, glistening with my release. She reached back lazily, scooped the thick drop onto her finger, turned to face me, and sucked it clean. Slow. Deliberate. Eyes locked on mine the whole time.

Then she smiled—sweet, wicked, utterly unrepentant.

“Thanks, Professor!”

She blew me a kiss, grabbed her discarded shirt, and pranced toward the door. Pigtails bouncing. Skirt still hiked up. c*m streaking her thigh. She slipped the shirt back on as she went—casual, like she hadn’t just let me break a yardstick on her ass and f**k her raw.

The door clicked shut behind her.

I collapsed into my chair. Legs weak. Chest heaving. c**k still twitching against my thigh, slick and spent.

The office smelled like s*x—sweat, her arousal, my c*m. The broken yardstick lay on the floor like evidence. My desk was scuffed where her hips had ground against it. A wet spot darkened the wood where she’d dripped.

I stared at the closed door.

What the hell was I doing?

She was a student. Nineteen. Barely legal in any absolute sense. And I’d just caned her ass until it looked like it belonged in one of my darkest fantasies, then f****d both her holes as I owned them.

Guilt should have crushed me. Fear—of getting caught, of losing everything—should have paralyzed me.

But all I could think about was the way she’d squealed when I first pushed into her ass. The way her hole had clenched when she came. The way she’d sucked my c*m off her finger like it was candy.

I groaned, dropped my head into my hands.

I had no idea what to do about Mary.

But deep down—buried under the shame and the panic—I knew one thing for sure.

She’d be back.

And God help me… part of me couldn’t wait.