FORBIDDEN DESIRES

The Professor's Forbidden Punishment 2

Monday evening came way too fast.

All weekend I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in Professor Kane’s office. The way his fingers felt stretching me. The way he made me c*m so hard I almost couldn’t stand. The taste of my own wetness on his fingers. I kept telling myself I wouldn’t go back. That I would find another way. But at 6:50 PM on Monday, I was standing outside his office again, thighs squeezing together, already feeling wet.

I knocked softly.

“Come in, Emily.”

I stepped inside and locked the door without him asking. He noticed and a small smirk appeared on his lips.

“Good girl. You’re learning already.”

Professor Kane was sitting in his big leather chair, looking relaxed but commanding. The curtains were fully drawn. Only the warm glow of his desk lamp lit the room.

He turned his chair toward me and crooked his finger. “Come here.”

I walked over slowly until I was standing between his spread legs. He ran his hands up the back of my thighs, under my short black skirt, and cupped my ass firmly.

“Did you think about me this weekend?” he asked, voice low.

I bit my lip and nodded.

“Words, Emily.”

“Yes, Professor… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

He smiled, satisfied. “Good. That means the lesson stayed with you.” His hands squeezed my ass harder. “Tonight we’re going much further. But first, I want to play with this needy little p***y some more.”

He stood up, turned me around, and bent me over his desk. My breasts pressed against the cool wood. He flipped my skirt up over my waist and slowly pulled my white lace panties down to my knees, completely exposing me.

*This is so humiliating… but why am I getting even wetter?*

He took his time, spreading my legs wider. His fingers gently teased my outer lips, stroking up and down my slit without entering me yet. I was already dripping.

“Soaking wet again,” he murmured. “Your body craves this even when your mind is still shy.”

He finally pushed two thick fingers inside me, sliding them in deep. I moaned softly, gripping the edge of the desk. He started pumping them slowly, curling them against my g-spot with every stroke.

“Oh God…” I whimpered.

He added a third finger, stretching me wider. The fullness made my legs tremble. He began fingering me harder, faster, his fingers plunging in and out with wet, obscene sounds that filled the quiet office.

“You’re clenching so tightly around my fingers,” he said, voice husky. “Does it feel good, Emily? Being bent over your professor’s desk like a little slut?”

I moaned louder in response. He suddenly brought his free hand down and spanked my ass firmly. The sting mixed with the pleasure made me gasp.

He kept fingering me relentlessly — long, deep strokes, sometimes slowing down to tease me by pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. He added a fourth finger, really stretching me now. The pressure was intense. My juices were running down my thighs as he pumped faster.

“You’re taking four fingers so well,” he praised, twisting his hand slightly inside me. “Look at you… dripping all over my hand like a desperate girl.”

I was panting hard, pushing back against his fingers without realizing it. He curled them perfectly against my g-spot again and again while his thumb rubbed fast circles on my swollen c**t.

“I can feel you getting close,” he growled. “Don’t c*m yet. Hold it.”

He kept fingering me mercilessly, bringing me right to the edge and then slowing down, teasing me over and over. I was whimpering and begging.

“Please, Professor… I need to c*m…”

“Not yet,” he said firmly, still pumping his four fingers deep inside me. “You c*m when I say you can.”

He continued the torturous rhythm for what felt like forever — fast and rough, then slow and teasing, twisting and scissoring his fingers to stretch me even more. My legs were shaking badly. I was a dripping, moaning mess.

Finally, he thrust his fingers deep and commanded, “c*m for me. Now.”

The orgasm exploded through me. I cried out, my p***y spasming hard around his thick fingers as waves of intense pleasure crashed over me. I squirted a little, soaking his hand and the floor. He kept fingering me through the entire orgasm, drawing it out until I was trembling uncontrollably.

Only then did he pull his fingers out. I heard his belt unbuckling.

He rubbed the thick head of his c**k up and down my soaked p***y, teasing my entrance.

“Professor… are you really going to…?” I asked, voice shaking.

“Yes, Emily. I’m going to f**k you properly tonight.”

He pushed the head in slowly. I gasped at the stretch. He was much bigger than his fingers. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, groaning softly as my tight walls gripped him.

“f**k… you’re so tight,” he breathed.

He kept going until he was fully buried inside me. The fullness was overwhelming. He stayed still for a moment, letting me adjust, then started moving — slow, deep thrusts at first.

His pace gradually increased. Soon he was f*****g me with long, powerful strokes, his hips slapping against my ass. Every thrust hit deep, making my toes curl.

“Oh my God…” I moaned.

He reached around and rubbed my c**t while pounding into me. The pleasure built fast and intense.

“You feel so good,” he groaned. “This tight little p***y was made for my cock.”

He spanked my ass hard while thrusting, then again and again, alternating cheeks. I was moaning loudly, pushing back against him desperately.

He pulled out suddenly, turned me around, and lifted me onto the desk. He spread my legs wide, positioned himself, and thrust back inside me in one smooth motion.

Now face to face, he kissed my neck, sucked on my breasts through my top, and f****d me hard. His thumb kept rubbing my c**t in fast circles.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demanded.

“It’s so deep… I feel so full…” I whimpered.

He smiled darkly and f****d me even harder. My second orgasm hit me violently. I cried out, my p***y clenching tightly around his c**k as waves of pleasure crashed through me. He didn’t stop — he kept pounding me through it, drawing it out until I was shaking.

Only then did he pull out, stroke himself a few times, and c*m hard across my stomach and breasts. Thick ropes of warm c*m landed on my skin.

He breathed heavily, looking at me with satisfaction.

“Don’t clean it off yet,” he ordered. “I want you to wear my c*m under your clothes until you get home.”

He helped me down from the desk on shaky legs and pulled my panties back up, trapping some of his c*m against my p***y.

“Same time on Wednesday,” he said, kissing my forehead softly. “You’re doing very well, Emily. Keep being my good girl.”

I left his office feeling used, dripping with his c*m, ashamed… but already dreading and craving what Wednesday would bring.