FORBIDDEN DESIRES

The Professor's Forbidden Punishment 4

Two weeks had passed since that intense Wednesday night, and my entire life had been turned upside down.

I could barely recognize myself anymore. The quiet, shy 19-year-old girl who had only cheated out of desperation was gone. In her place was someone who got butterflies in her stomach every time she received a text from Professor Kane. Someone who got wet during his lectures just from the sound of his voice. Someone who had started touching herself at night while replaying everything he did to her.

Our secret arrangement had become even more intense. He messaged me throughout the day with small commands that made my heart race: “No panties under your skirt today.” “Send me a photo of your breasts in the bathroom.” “Think about my c**k during lunch.” And I obeyed every single one like an addict.

Tonight was the riskiest yet.

Instead of his office, he had told me to meet him in the main lecture hall after everyone had left campus. The huge room was dark and empty, with only the emergency lights casting long shadows across the rows of seats. The large wooden desk at the front — the same one he taught from every day — felt incredibly exposed.

I arrived at exactly 7 PM, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. He was already there, leaning against the desk in a black shirt, looking powerful and dangerously handsome.

“Lock the door, Emily,” he said, his voice echoing slightly in the big hall.

The moment the lock clicked, he crossed the room in a few strides and pulled me into a deep, possessive kiss. His hands roamed over my body hungrily — squeezing my breasts, grabbing my ass, sliding under my skirt.

“You’ve been such a good girl these past two weeks,” he murmured against my lips. “Always wet and ready for me. Have you been thinking about my c**k all day?”

“Yes, Professor,” I whispered, my face burning with shame and excitement.

He smiled darkly and stepped back. “Strip. Everything. I want you completely naked on my desk.”

I obeyed slowly, removing my top, bra, skirt, and panties until I stood fully naked in the middle of the lecture hall where anyone could theoretically walk in. The thrill made my p***y throb.

He guided me to the big desk and bent me over it, my breasts pressing against the cool surface. He spread my legs wide and immediately pushed two thick fingers deep inside me.

“f**k, you’re dripping down your thighs already,” he groaned. He added a third finger, then a fourth, stretching me wide as he pumped them in and out with long, deliberate strokes. He twisted his hand, curled his fingers against my g-spot, and kept fingering me relentlessly for several minutes.

I was moaning loudly, no longer able to stay quiet. He spanked my ass hard between thrusts, making my skin sting deliciously.

“You love being f****d in my lecture hall, don’t you?” he growled. “Right where I teach all those students who have no idea what a slut you are for me.”

“Yes… I love it,” I whimpered, pushing back against his hand.

He kept fingering me mercilessly — fast, then slow, teasing me by bringing me close to orgasm and then slowing down again. My juices were running down my legs. After making me beg for almost ten minutes, he finally let me c*m hard on his fingers. I cried out as my p***y clenched and squirted slightly, my legs shaking violently.

But he wasn’t done.

He dropped to his knees behind me and buried his face between my legs. His tongue licked me hungrily from my c**t all the way to my entrance, sucking and f*****g me with his mouth. He slid two fingers back inside me while sucking hard on my c**t. The pleasure was overwhelming. I came again within minutes, moaning his name loudly in the empty hall.

Only then did he stand up, free his thick, hard c**k, and rub it against my soaked p***y.

“Beg for it properly,” he commanded.

“Please, Professor… f**k me hard. I need your c**k deep inside me. Please use me.”

He slammed into me in one powerful thrust, burying himself completely. I gasped at the sudden stretch. He started f*****g me with long, deep strokes, gradually getting harder and faster. The sound of his hips slapping against my ass echoed through the big lecture hall.

He grabbed my hair, pulling my head back as he pounded into me. “This is what you are now. My personal fucktoy. My secret little whore.”

“Yes… I’m your w***e,” I moaned, completely lost in the pleasure.

He f****d me in several positions — bent over the desk, then sitting on the edge with my legs wrapped around him, and finally laying me on my back across the desk with my legs over his shoulders. Each position felt deeper and more intense than the last. He rubbed my c**t while thrusting hard, making me c*m a third time, screaming in ecstasy.

Finally, with a deep groan, he buried himself as deep as possible and came hard inside me. I felt pulse after pulse of thick, hot c*m flooding my p***y. He kept thrusting slowly, pushing every drop deep inside me.

Afterwards, he pulled me into his arms, holding me gently as I trembled against him. He stroked my hair and kissed my forehead.

“You’ve become everything I wanted,” he whispered. “Your grades are safe. No one will ever know about your mistake. But this… us… isn’t ending. You belong to me now.”

I looked up at him, still naked, dripping with his c*m, feeling completely ruined and satisfied.

“I know,” I said softly. “I don’t want it to end.”

As I left the lecture hall later that night, walking carefully with his c*m still leaking down my thighs, I realized the truth.

I had started this to save my future.

But now, being Professor Kane’s secret slut had become my new addiction.

And I was never going back.