Rachael breathed in ragged, heaving gasps as she quivered in anticipation, needing this final smack to be enough, terrified it wouldn’t be. “For this last one, I want to hear you beg for it. You have to earn this one.”
Rachael let out a trembly breath. “Please, please spank my ass! I’m a naughty little slut, and I need to be spanked! Punish me! Fucking spank my naughty little butt, please! Oh please oh please oh please ohaaaaieeeeeee!”
The final blow landed. DJ half-expected her to cum on the spot, but whatever his influence was, it wasn’t enough to make a girl orgasm from having her butt spanked. Rachael, however, wasn’t ready to concede the point and leapt to her feet so hard she almost knocked Derek out of his chair. Seeing Logan staring in mesmerized lust, she grabbed his waistline and pulled herself up to him, smothering him in a frantic kiss.
“You’re going to fuck me, all right? I need to fucking cum before I explode.” Logan, goggle-eyed at the sight of a girl demanding to be fucked by him, was then dragged out of the room. Not thirty second later they could hear Rachael howling and shrieking in bliss as she rode herself to orgasm. It being Logan’s first time, it didn’t last long, but she still clocked four orgasms to his one—and Derek and DJ could hear every elated one of them.
“All right, I believe you about the stripper.”
It appears, DJ thought, I need some work on rising above temptation.
Chapter Four
After the debacle at game night, DJ spent the rest of the weekend cloistered in his room. He didn’t have rounds duty until later in the week, and his social calendar was clear as usual. He looked occasionally at his list of experiments, and while part of him was curious as to whether or not the tolerance power would work online, would work if he were an anonymous stranger, the memory flashed of Rachael bent over her brother’s lap, begging him to spank her.
He read. Did homework. Filled in some sudoku. Anything to avoid the constant temptation of walking down the hall to the girl’s shower and… No. Another sudoku.
But that Monday was as inevitable as any other. Wary of succumbing, he kept his head down and didn’t look around. Tried not to bump into people on the sidewalk. Intro to communications and intermediate comp both passed smoothly; he spent most of the time looking down at his notebook and doodling.
Allie Gentrose came to class in shorts so short her ass cheeks hung out at the bottom, a tank top so sheer he could see her nipples. He could walk over and grab them right now if he wanted, and she wouldn’t complain. Maybe a little, if his hands were cold or he made her late for class.
The lecture ended, and he walked out, hands firmly in his pockets. Really, he felt pretty good about it. He kept reciting the golden rule to himself, kept himself distracted from looking around at his peers, and it wasn’t so hard.
Until Dr. Restrepo’s class.
It was a large lecture hall, though only seventy or so students were enrolled in her class so there was plenty of room. DJ sat towards the back of the room as his fellow students shuffled in, and soon Dr. Restrepo—Missy—walked in. As usual she was dressed like “one of the gang”—a fashionable fall sweater, denim skirt, a pair of uggs, her thick mane of curly hair back in a pony tail. Anyone visiting would probably mistake her for a student, just another hot sorority girl.
She opened class with a lecture about their essays, which she’d graded over the weekend. DJ half-listened, not because he was at all worried—it was fast becoming difficult to imagine someone taking punitive action against him—but because of how tight her sweater was. He couldn’t get the image out of his head of the eyeful she’d given him in her office last week. And he didn’t want to.
He stared openly as she moved up and down the aisles returning the graded papers, figuring he could forgive himself this one little transgression. You’re only looking after all. No harm in a little looking. Not like you’re touching her. Stripping her. Putting your dick in her mouth. Fucking her brains out. No, nothing like that. Just looking. When she slapped his down upside down on his desk, she was keenly aware of the way his eyes were feasting on her breasts, only a foot or so from his face. She was unaware, however, of how close he came to groping them instead.
At last she finished complaining about the poor quality of the essays and began her lecture. Instantly bored and with his view obscured by her podium on the class’s stage, he finally flipped over his paper and saw his grade.
An F. An F! There was only a single comment written—“plagiarism: violation of university academic honor code 02-04a.” Plagiarism! He’d worked hard on this! She didn’t even cite where he’d plagiarized from!
Up at the front of the room, she was still going through her lecture, something about the impact of expressive typography in new media. The class was filled with faces of students concealing angry expressions, people who seemed to have about the same reaction he had to their essay feedback. He was halfway up to his feet before he again remembered Derek and Rachael, and he sat back down. He’d handle this maturely. Talk it out. Calmly.
And ya know, he might have made it if she hadn’t had to go and push him. “Let’s hope you guys put a little more effort into your note-taking today than you did on your essays.” The condescending tone, the flippant dismissal of her students’ concerns, the roll of her eyes.
DJ stood up and walked down toward the stage, stopping at the foot of it and looking up at her. She eyed him, but opted to continue lecturing—right up until DJ walked around behind her and grabbed her tits, pulling her ass up against him. “You fucking bitch,” he hissed in her ear.
“Schmidt, this is hardly the time. I’m trying to teach.” She wriggled a little in his grip, but barely struggled. Someone in the class yawned loudly.
“My name is Swanson! Not Schmidt, Swanson! Get it right, Dr. Restrepo!”
“Well while we’re on the subject of names, it’s Missy, remember. I wouldn’t think it would be so difficult for you; you have what, five professors, and I have hundreds of students.” She gasped a little as he squeezed one of her boobs harder.
“Hmm. Well I can’t seem to remember how you’re ‘one of the gang’ when you keep treating the gang like this. So maybe now we give you a name that’s easier to remember.” He picked up and uncapped the black dry erase marker from the nearby white board, then walked over and scrawled something on her face. Dr. Missy Restrepo waited with strained patience; the class was now watching with much interest. When he was done, the words “BITCH FROM HELL” were written on her forehead. “There now, that should be easy for everyone to remember.” A number of his peers laughed. A ways back someone elbowed the student on her right awake and pointed.
Not sure what else to do, she grabbed her cell phone from her purse beneath the podium and used the camera function as a mirror. “Well that’s going to be a pain to wash off. Are you quite done disrupting my class?”
“I’m tired of listening to you talk. Quite frankly, I think we’re all a little tired of being condescended to by the great Dr. Missy.” DJ grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it up and over her head with a little effort, revealing a boring beige bra that somehow reduced her sex appeal from the snug sweater. As Missy put her hands on her hips and regarded him impatiently, he unzipped the denim skirt and tugged it down to reveal a pair of boring matching beige panties.
“This is extremely unprofessional,” she said evenly as he unclasped the bra. Discarded, it freed an amazing pair of tits. Not as big as Ashleigh’s, but that girl’s were enormous. Still, these were remarkably perky little hemispheres, especially given their size.