Office Hours with Professor Daddy

Teresa paused outside the heavy door, her twenty-two-year-old pulse loud in her ears. Office hours had just started, and the hallway was quiet except for distant voices from the lecture hall. Her bladder pressed hard and low, a deliberate ache she had nursed through her last discussion section because she knew what waited inside. The cotton of her panties clung, already soaked through from the thoughts she could not shut off. She knocked once and stepped in.

Professor Reid looked up from the stack of essays on his desk. At forty-eight he carried the room without effort, suit jacket open, sleeves rolled, the gray at his temples catching the lamp light. His eyes moved over her slowly, taking in the way she shifted her weight and the faint color high on her cheeks.

“Close it,” he said.

She did. The words came out thinner than she wanted. “I’ve been craving it. Our arrangement. All week I could barely grade without thinking about you using me.”

He rose, crossed the short distance, and turned the lock. The click settled into her bones. Electric tension filled the small space between them, thick with the scent of paper, his cologne, and the sharp sweetness of her own arousal. He did not touch her yet. He simply watched her stand there, thighs pressed, knowing exactly how full she was and how wet the fabric had become against her skin.

“Then you remember the rules,” he said, voice low. “You do not relieve yourself until I allow it. You take what I give you. And you thank me for every second of it.”

She nodded, already trembling. The locked door and his steady gaze made the rest of the building feel very far away.

“Legs apart,” Reid ordered. “Now.”

Teresa widened her stance on the rug, skirt brushing her knees. He stepped behind her, one large hand settling at the small of her back while the other gathered the hem and drew it upward in a slow, deliberate hike. Cool air met the backs of her thighs. He tucked the fabric at her waist so nothing hid her. The soaked panties were nearly transparent, dark where they clung to her swollen folds. A soft, helpless sound left her throat.

His palm came down in a firm, open-handed spank directly over her pussy. The wet fabric muffled nothing. Heat flared sharp and immediate. She whimpered, knees buckling, and a fresh leak of arousal soaked through even more. He did it again, harder, the impact jolting straight into her full bladder. She gasped, thighs shaking, and tried to close her legs on instinct.

“Open,” he said. She forced them wider. Another spank landed, then another, each one precise and stinging. Humiliation burned hotter than the pain. She could hear how wet she was, feel the slickness spreading, and the pressure in her bladder made every strike threaten to undo her completely. He hooked two fingers in the waistband and dragged the panties down to mid-thigh, baring her. The next spank met bare, glistening skin. She cried out, leaking openly now, a thin trail sliding down her inner thigh.

“Look at you,” he murmured against her ear. “Dripping like a desperate slut in my office. You want the bathroom, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please, I need—”

“No.” His hand cupped her, not gently, thumb pressing just above her clit while two fingers slid through the mess. “You beg properly or you hold it. Tell me what you are.”

The denial shoved her past pride. Words tumbled out, raw and shaking. “I’m your desperate slut. Please, Daddy, I need you to use me. I can’t think. My pussy’s so wet and I have to pee so bad and I still want you to fuck me. Please claim me. Please.”

Reid’s breath roughened. He spun her, bent her forward until her palms hit the edge of his desk, and shoved the papers aside. Her skirt stayed rucked at her waist. He delivered a rapid series of pussy spankings that made her sob and drip onto the wood. Each impact pushed her closer to the edge of both release and control. She pleaded in broken fragments, hips rocking back, offering everything. The mutual hunger snapped taut. He was hard against her ass through his trousers, grinding once, twice, while she begged him to take her completely, bare, rough, until she belonged to him in every filthy way they had agreed.

He unzipped. The sound was loud in the quiet office. Reid pushed her flatter over the desk, one hand between her shoulder blades, and brought his palm down hard across her bare ass. The crack echoed. She jolted, a bright red handprint blooming instantly. He spanked her again, alternating cheeks, building a steady burn that spread heat deep into her muscles. She moaned into the scattered papers, ass lifting for more even as tears pricked her eyes. He did not stop until both cheeks glowed hot and tender, the skin tight and marked.

Only then did he notch the thick head of his cock against her soaked entrance and drive in bare, one long, rough thrust that seated him to the hilt. Teresa’s cry broke. He was big, stretching her open without pause, the sudden fullness colliding with the ache in her bladder. He pulled back and slammed in again, setting a brutal pace meant for breeding. Deep, grinding strokes that punched against her cervix and made her see stars.

“Needy little breeding whore,” he growled, fingers tightening in her hair. “Taking my cock raw in the middle of office hours. You want me to fill this cunt until it takes. Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy—breed me—please fuck your cum into me—” The words dissolved into whimpers as he pounded harder. Her ass burned where it met his hips. Every thrust shoved her forward, breasts crushed to the desk, nipples dragging against her blouse. He reached under her and delivered a vicious spank to her pussy, the wet slap landing right where his cock stretched her. She shrieked, clenching, and he did it again, then again, alternating the stinging blows with deep, breeding-focused thrusts that kept her stuffed and shaking.

His other hand slid up to her throat. The grip was light but unmistakable, just enough pressure to make her pulse thunder under his fingers and her vision edge darker at the corners. He held her there, choking her gently while he fucked her, never cutting air completely, only reminding her who controlled every breath and every leak. She hovered on the brink, orgasm coiling tight, bladder screaming for release she was not allowed to give. Reid felt her flutter and deliberately slowed, grinding deep, denying the final push.

“Not yet,” he said against her ear. “You come when I breed you. Hold it. Hold everything.”

She sobbed, nodding as much as his hand allowed. He resumed the punishing rhythm, cock dragging over every sensitive spot, pussy spankings landing in sharp counterpoint whenever she got too close. Humiliation and need tangled until she could not tell them apart. Her thighs were slick to the knees. The desk edge bit into her hips. She begged in a wrecked voice for him to let her shatter, to fill her, to own the mess she was becoming.

When he finally allowed it, the orgasm hit like a rupture. Teresa came hard around his cock, walls clamping and rippling, and the force of it broke her bladder control in a humiliating, gushing squirt that sprayed around his shaft and soaked his trousers, the desk, her own shaking legs. She wailed, the release endless and obscene, body convulsing while he kept thrusting through it. Reid groaned, grip tightening on her throat and hip, and buried himself to the root. Hot pulses of cum flooded her womb in thick, breeding spurts. He stayed deep, grinding, making sure every drop stayed inside while she trembled and leaked and cried his name.

He did not pull out. Reid kept his spent cock plugged inside her, one hand stroking the red marks on her ass while she shook through the aftershocks. Teresa’s voice was hoarse and small. “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for breeding me.”

For a long moment he simply held her there, possessive and still, letting her feel how full she was of him. Then he eased back just enough to speak against her hair. “Trash bin. Beside the desk. You have permission.”

She slid off his cock with a wet sound, cum already beginning to drip down her thighs. On unsteady legs she crouched over the small bin, skirt still hiked, and let go under his watchful gaze. The relief was blinding and mortifying. He watched every second, eyes dark with ownership, until she was empty and flushed and dripping from both holes. When she finished he handed her tissues without a word. She cleaned what she could, tugged her soaked panties back up, and smoothed her skirt with trembling hands. The rest of her TA duties waited outside the locked door, papers to collect, students to meet, and she would walk into them with his cum leaking into the fabric and the memory of his handprints burning on her skin.

Already her mind turned, quiet and hungry. Next Thursday’s office hours. She would wear the thin skirt he liked, skip the panties entirely, and hold her bladder from the moment she woke so the ache would be worse. She would kneel the second the lock clicked and ask him, properly, to breed her twice before he let her come. The plan settled warm and certain behind her ribs as she reached for the door.